Boxes and Bridges
by Eve Levine
Summary: Jax and Tara at the end of Season 3.  My attempt at taping the broken couple back together.  Rated M because the show is TV-MA.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N. - All of the characters belong to Kurt Sutter. I own none of them. I thought Jax and Tara made a lot of emotional and philosophical decisions at the end of Season 3 that were glossed over in favor of plot twists and capers. Loved the twist but couldn't help feeling cheated by all of the missing scenes I waited half a season to watch. This is my first fan-fiction story ever._

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TARA

The trunk is hot, the air heavy and stale, and each breath is a chore. The thirst is overwhelming, splitting her lips and threatening to crack her tongue. The thirst is her greatest adversary but the smell is bad too. In the crushing heat, Luisa's blood spoiled and dried leaving her clothes rank and stiff. The gag tastes like motor oil and the decaying blood. It reminds her of the shop which makes her think of Jax. Her hands and feet lost feeling ages ago and she's lying on the ribs Salazar kicked. Sometimes he stops the car to beat on the lid of the trunk, and she knows eventually he'll start beating her. Her head feels like it's doubled in size, and as her heartbeat kicks at her temples, her thoughts stretch and distort as if seen through a fun-house mirror.

She thinks about the Prospect Kip. How he rushed into Cameron's knife trying to save Abel, gurgling as he died, and how she whimpered for Cameron to wait and somehow take back the plunge of his weapon. Kip's eyes were empty before he slid to the ground. Days later, with bleach fumes burning her nose, she sobbed while she tried to scrub Kip off of Jax's kitchen floor. It turns out Crime Scene Units don't so much clean up murder sites as swab and sample them.

She remembers her first clean up, when she was picking pieces of Kohn's brain out of her carpet. How she knew she was cracking up when she found herself comparing the different lumps and wondering what facet of him she was holding. Was this the part of Joshua that brought her roses on their second date, or was it the part that climbed through her bedroom window and busted her lip because she smiled at another man?

Jax was there the first time to prop her up when the surging hysteria overcame her, but in the kitchen she was alone. Jax was face down in the nursery, inconsolable, catatonic, drunk, and when his eyes could focus on her, it was betrayal she saw there; betrayal for Abel.

Abel's little self fills the darkness of the trunk. She envisions both the first time she saw him, when he was tiny and broken, and the last time crying in Cameron's arms. She loves that she was the first person to ever hold Abel, and she loves that she's seen his heart. She helped fix him with her careful hands, back before she loved him, and she remembers he coded during the surgery. In that urgent moment her concern had been for Jax, but now Tara knows _she_ wouldn't survive if Abel's fragile heart stopped beating again.

The new baby whispers along her insides, accusing her of forsaking it a few short days ago. Tara believes in choices and she knows all choices have consequences; some of them devastating. Every aching moment is a consequence of failing Abel. She thought she had no right to be a mother. She didn't realize the fierceness of her attachment to this new life until it was in danger. She feels like she could spring claws and shred any person trying to harm it. After he's dead and his body is cooling –because mercy got her nowhere but in this damn trunk- she'll thank Salazar for interrupting her life at a critical moment and helping her find her claws. That is, if she survives.

Tara knows her hands are soaked in blood. The sterile, abstract kind flowing through the patients she heals and the desperate, spattering kind pumping out of the people she loves and the people she's helped to end. In the searing blackness, when she is no longer lucid, it seems like the blood is pressing on her skin, looking for cracks, seeking entrance.

JAX

Everything fucking hurts. An EMT is checking his pupils while the cops ask their questions. They've already taken his sweatshirt for evidence and he's flat out refused to put on the neck brace they want him to wear. They are wrapping the stupid slice on his arm; his alibi for the police and for the club, because there was no way Salazar was walking out of the building. The Mayans have left but SAMCRO is still there, hovering. Clay, Chibs and Bobby are right behind the line of cops and the look Clay's giving him is intense. Jax can't decide if he looks proud or pissed. Maybe Clay can't decide either.

Tara's in a different ambulance with her own circle of officers, being watched over by Opie, Kozik and Tig. They won't let him see her yet, but he knows she's okay. One smart cop, sensing the panic rolling off Jax, radioed to get her status. He knows the blood covering her stomach and thighs isn't hers or their baby's. He also knows she's badly dehydrated and hasn't eaten in two days. They assure him her EMTs have her hooked up to an IV which is quicker than drinking. In the middle of the questioning, Jax sees Tig slip away on his bike and come back with a greasy paper bag. He passes it to one of the men surrounding Tara. Jax needs to remember to thank him.

Jax gives them the story they want, the one he has to spin to avoid charges. He leaves out a lot of the details. They don't need to know Jax recently took a special interest in humiliating Salazar, repeatedly kicking the little bitch's pride. They don't need to know how his vision narrowed down to the hand holding a blade over Tara's jumping pulse. Jax could tell how scared she was. Her breath came out in short, panicked bursts, but she was brave. His girl met Salazar's eyes and didn't cower, nor did she beg. They don't need to know he was pissed about the caretaker, but he's beyond proud of Tara for taking out Salazar's girl with surgical precision. They certainly don't need to know Jax, seeing the trapped, scurrying truth of Salazar, disarmed the rodent by offering him a path through the maze. He admits to stabbing Salazar, but doesn't confess to its intimacy. Jax pulling him in close -faces inches apart- relishing his shock. Jax digging under Salazar's ribcage, with the rat's own knife, searching for his heart.

Recounting the story, Jax can feel the vibrating rage re-building in his chest. It courses down his limbs and his fingertips won't stay still. Chibs must be paying close attention, because he tosses Jax his smokes and lighter over the heads of the cops. Jax lights one and salutes Chibs with it. Under the rage, something different is thrumming through his system, making him shake. He tells himself it is leftover adrenaline, but it has the clammy stink of fear to it. This time it was too close. He was almost too late. Half his family could have been erased with one flick of Salazar's wrist. He needs this interview to be over.


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N.- Thank you very much for the kind reviews. Seriously made my week. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. I have the story mapped out now, so hopefully I can update the next chapter in a timely fashion. Also, I've realized this will probably be a mostly internal and reflective story, but I promise Jax and Tara will have a very long relationship chat... just not yet. I hope that isn't frustrating. _

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TARA

Tara's hands have almost stopped shaking. She stares at them fascinated by the involuntary reaction. She's hooked up to an IV and is on her second bottle of water. She's no longer overheated and she knows Jax gutted Salazar. Every passing second, since being pulled from the trunk, finds the liquid and mercurial spread of her mind solidifying until she feels she recognizes herself.

She hears an officer's radio go off. The man on the other end needs Teller to calm down and give his statement. The man asks if Knowles is injured or has miscarried.

_He knows_.

Opie walks up behind the cops at the edge of the ambulance with Kozik and Tig. Tara's chest tightens. She locks eyes with him and mouths one word –a question. _Abel? _Opie's sad face lifts at its corners, his eyes crinkling, and he nods. Her relief is so great it feels something like pain –but it's sweet- and Tara swipes at her tears. She looks back at Opie, who's still smiling, and feels a sudden tenderness for her old friend, who lied to her that morning at the clubhouse, trying to spare her a measure of heartbreak. And who went with Jax, where she wasn't allowed, and helped bring Abel home. She almost cries again when Tig brings her a giant chicken sandwich, but he hollers dire threats at her, telling her she better eat all of it, and she feels herself grinning instead. Tara inhales the food, growing hungrier as she eats.

There's always one cop who wants to dig. Who finds it _convenient_how often she's involved, who's ignoring the hostage situation and is looking for loopholes in her story that he can tug and unravel. This one is not from Charming P.D. and the guys are growing impatient with the detective; shifting and muttering while they smoke. Tara appreciates their concern, she really does, but she's got this. She can handle the detective's trickier questions.

Tara has nothing to hide and nobody to protect. She duels with the officer, telling him the truth… well most of it. The slice to Luisa's neck wasn't meant as a kill shot. Hitting her carotid artery was an accident. This is the single lie she tells the detective and it's backed by Margaret's statement. Tara saves her ace for the end. She didn't shoot Salazar when he dropped his weapon in the bathroom. Why would she kill one captor in cold blood and then allow the bigger, angrier one to live? The question would be less troubling if she knew the answer herself. _Why didn't she kill him? _

The interview ends as her IV is being removed. The radio squawks again to say Teller is on his way. Tara searches for him and finds Jax moving towards her. He's not quite limping but she can tell he's in pain. She knows he's wronged her but their history is long and tightly woven. It's impossible for Tara to separate the strand of his recent cruelties from the rest of the Jax she's known since her first day of school. As her pulse speeds up, a handful of memories from when they were kids, long before they were a couple, push against her while she watches him.

They're in second grade and Jax likes to tug on her braids during recess. It's getting old and she's growing impatient with him. Then he announces to every kid by the swings that she is his girlfriend. Before she can blush, he punches her hard in the shoulder and takes off across the school yard. She chases him, hollering her head off, while he laughs. Her longer legs catch up with him –at eight years old she's the taller one- and she tackles him to the ground. He grins up at her looking pleased to be caught. Tara grins back, deciding she likes his untidy blonde hair, and then she slugs him right in the chest.

The year after her mother dies is fifth grade, when she's grown quiet and forgotten by her friends, and there is nobody to braid her hair. When her father begins disappearing into himself, and drinking until he is mute. When objects become talismans for him and her mother's earrings stay untouched on their bathroom sink. This year, like the year before, she visits the school counselor every Wednesday.

On one of these days Jax is hauled in by an angry teacher and sat in the chair next to her. He's there to see the principal for lighting firecrackers in a trash barrel on school property. Jax whispers to her that they aren't even his, but he won't spill the name of the owner. He looks down at his hands, his face drawn, and she remembers hearing he'd lost his little brother. Tara doesn't know what to say, so she digs into her backpack and offers him half of her granola bar. He smiles as he takes it -which is her goal- and produces a handful of firecrackers and a lighter from his front pocket. He urges her to take them and meet him after school.

Tara, her eyes wide, stuffs the contraband into her backpack and shoves it as far under her chair as it will go. Later she sets off the firecrackers with him and Opie Winston, who is the supplier. Tara loves the gigantic booms, and makes a plan to meet up with them after dark to set off Opie's _really big_ fireworks. She's late getting home, late waking up her dad, and late heating up his dinner. He's sullen with her before his night shift at the mill, but this day Tara is too excited to care.

Jax's father is hit by a semi when they are freshman in high school. John Teller's funeral is legendary. It goes on for a week, clogging their small town with bikers. Tara sits next to Jax in Geometry and every day he lays his head down on his arms. The teacher, who made it clear that was not allowed in her class, never says a word to him.

Tara is leery of boys and their grief. She knows from home that hugging an upset man without permission can cause him to stiffen, grow chilly, and send her to her room where she can cry by herself. She doesn't pry with Jax, trying to get him to open up, like the other girls do. Tara leaves him alone, but most days she slips him a copy of her math homework before school.

Sophomore year is when Jax rediscovers his smile and the first time she gets high with him out in Oswald's woods. He has the best weed; better than anything she's ever smoked. He and Opie are laughing at her dazed expression, wanting to know if she can feel it yet. Oh yeah, she can feel it. Tara howls her own laughter up to the tree tops, and while she's not entirely certain why she's laughing, it feels so good. It's so different from the crowded silence of her house. Where she bumps into everything and wants to tear through the place destroying every object, every memento, until her father has to look at her.

Opie wanders off to piss and Jax slides his fingers into her belt loops, pulling her closer. He asks her when she's going to date him. It's not the first time they have this conversation. Tara loses focus when she's this close to him, but she manages to tell him he needs to ditch his five other girlfriends. His mouth twitches in amusement, and she sees the impulse a second before he swoops closer and whispers in her ear, _You know those other girls don't mean anything_. He bites down softly on her earlobe and adrenaline shoots through her lower back. Tara thinks it's a line, empty flattery, but it's so hard to resist his charm when he's kissing it down her neck.

She uncurls her arms from around his shoulders –how did those get there- and she underlines again that she isn't going to be one of the many. Jax winks at her and lets her go.

And suddenly he's in front of her, older, harder, and haunted. He climbs into the ambulance and the doors close, leaving them alone in the back. Jax kneels in front of her, and Tara's not sure how to do this; how to mend what's broken. She lets her fingers walk over his injuries, fussing with the details. Jax cradles her chin, searching her face, and dipping his own chin down until she meets his eyes. She finds him tentative, looking for rejection, and this gap between them, that can't be measured in inches, squeezes her throat.

It's his hesitation that gets her, spurs her to leap first. Tara wraps her arms around him, her hands searching for purchase on the smooth leather of his cut. Jax responds, pulling her tightly into his chest.

"Are you okay, Babe?" He murmurs and Tara nods against his shoulder.

"Where is he?" She asks and Jax puts his mouth to her ear, barely speaking.

"He's with my mom at her house. Nobody knows she's back."

"Is he- " Tara starts.

"He's perfect," Jax assures her and something hard and clenched inside Tara loosens a little bit and blows out of her body with a sigh.

"I'm so sorry," Jax breathes against her neck. Tara pulls back a little to look at him.

"For what?" She asks and he almost smiles.

"Everything."

"Me too," Tara says and places a careful, questioning kiss on his lips. She gets her answer as his hands dive into her hair, clutching it in his fists, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. When they break apart, his fingers find hers, bringing them up to brush her knuckles gently against his mouth. He leans his head against hers and closes his eyes.

"Never again, Tara. Never again." Jax says like a promise, like an oath, but so much has gone wrong, she's not sure what he's swearing to. For now, that's okay. Abel is home, Jax is home, and she and the new baby are safe. Her hands are entwined with his, their foreheads pressed together and Tara feels like the world, which has been tipped on its side for so long, is back to spinning on the right axis.


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N.- I'm so sorry about the delay in this story. My grandma died the week I put up chapter 2 and well... it knocked me on my ass. This is just the first part of a longer Chapter from Jax's POV, but the second half fell apart and badly needs some spit and polish. I hope it isn't disappointing since they're still in the damn ambulance. They won't be there the entire story. :-) I going to get the second half put up in the next day or so._

_On a side note- Did you guys know there's a bunch of lovely stories on this website? I'm such a newbie. Turns out it's way easier and way more fun to read other people's stories when you're sad, than it is to write your own. So, thank you for that. Had to kick myself off of the site so this would get written. As soon as I'm done with Chapter 4, I'm off to read and review all that I've missed. _

JAX

Up close Tara looks like she's been through hell. Her hair is dirty, her face is pale, and deep shadows circle her eyes. The bloody clothes are gone, probably packed into an evidence bag, and they've put her in a pair of scrubs big enough to fit Opie. Her hands are icy cold, the way they get when she's stressed, and after he kisses them he notices angry red ligature marks on her wrists from being tied up for days. He rubs her hands and wrists gently, soothing them and trying to increase the blood flow.

The driver and his partner have climbed in the front and they are making their way to St. Thomas. The sirens and lights are turned off but it doesn't feel like the driver is obeying the speed limit. Even in the scrubs, under the medicinal scent of the ambulance, Tara smells faintly like old blood and dead body. It a sweet gagging stink he wishes was unfamiliar to him. It always sticks in his nose until he climbs into the shower to wash the smell, and the rest of the night, off of his body. He loathes that the odor is now clinging to his girl. That she endured this situation. The fucking weasel should have hit the ground, with a hole in his head, at the Mayan bike race.

"Who had him?" Tara whispers. It's such a simple question with a very complicated answer. Jax flicks his eyes towards the front of the ambulance. He and Tara have their furtive lips pressed to each others ears but he can't be too careful. He gives a quick rundown of the people who had Abel during his abduction, leaving out the illegal parts. He feels her body shift and he can tell that she knows he's editing the story. Jax gets to the part where Ashby put Abel in an orphanage, and misdirected the fuck out of SAMCRO, until he was adopted for a short time. Tara gasps and squeezes him tighter. Her breath in his ear is ragged, her chest quivering the way it does when she's trying to contain big emotions.

"Who does that? What kind of priest would do that?" Her voice is rising and the EMT riding shotgun glances back at them. Jax strokes her hair and makes shushing noises while he holds her. "We're not dead Jax. Why would he keep Abel from us?"

"Later babe, it's a long fucked up story." Jax says as he catches her wording; the _we_ in reference to Abel. He knows she's really freaked out, because Tara's more cautious of boundaries than this, especially if she's been smacked down for crossing it before. And the last time she'd claimed Abel as _hers_ he'd nearly lost his fucking mind. Because how dare she invite herself into his nightmare? How dare she tie herself to his sinking ship? He wanted more for her than this. The ugly fight in his grandfather's basement crowds into his head and he can hear the echoes of every shitty thing he yelled at her. He can also see her stunned and wounded look.

Tara's no doormat, she can brawl if pushed too far, and after an age of being sweet and careful, she can erupt like Mount St. Helens and lay waste to whatever is in her path. Even still, Jax knows he's meaner than her. She's quicker to apologize and he's quicker to go for the kill shot. He remembers his boiling frustration with her that day, and how he began to look at her as an opponent, somebody to war with him. He was seeking out her weak spots and jabbing them hard.

Seen through a new lens, a different set of glasses, he can't believe how furious her love for Abel made him. Of course she loves Abel. When he's not completely spun out, Tara's loyalty is one of Jax's favorite things about her. She helped save Abel's life and she's been taking care of his son, like he was her own, since he left the hospital. She's so quick to tend to Abel's every need that Jax sometimes has to gently stop her so he has the chance to care for his son too. He's not sure why he expected that to change when Cameron held her at gunpoint and stole Abel from her.

He pulls back so he can see her face and her horror at Ashby's plan is spilling out of her eyes. An uncomfortable truth settles over Jax, he can never tell her he almost left Abel with the Petrie's. No question, she would never forgive him, and she would never fully trust him to make decisions about any of their babies. His hands drift down her sides and one of them rests on her lower belly. It doesn't really feel any different to his fingers, but the gesture does something to the inside of his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks and he wishes he could have squashed the little catch he hears in his voice.

"There was never a good time. I wanted you to focus. Not be distracted, and…" She trails off for a moment before shaking her head. "… You could barely look at me."

He wants to deny that, to tell her it's bullshit and make her feel better, but she's right and there are so many things he has to lie to her about right now. He doesn't want to add one more, and regardless, she wouldn't believe him if he tried.

"Well I'm looking now." He says and Tara gives him a smile that's a little sad around the edges. He kisses her softly trying to chase the sadness away.

He realizes this moment, this time in the ambulance, with the span of his hands across the potential of his child –that aside from a few hard goodbye kisses- this is the first time he's really touched Tara since Abel was taken. There were moments when he allowed her to touch him, to kiss him, wrap her arms around him, but it wasn't returned, not really. If he threw an arm around her it was just a habit or because she expected it. Jax didn't let himself feel it. He cut off the blood flow to the parts of him that loved Tara; deadened that flesh.

He tried to cleave her from him, break them in two because he couldn't stand to have her close and suffer the consequences of his life. He thought he could handle losing her, letting her find another man to love her, touch her, protect her, fuck her, if it meant he would never have to kneel in the street and kiss her shattered and bloodied face. He wouldn't survive what happened to Donna and Opie… or Luanne and Otto. But leaving her didn't help, it just left her unprotected.

The feelings for her he's kept so distant and separate from the rest of him have woken up. Holding her, having her in his arms creates a warm surging feeling. But there's fallout for being so numb, for being a good battle hardened Son and a bad partner. Like a limb, slept on and lifeless, the blood's flowing in, making connections, and as the feeling grows, the rush of pins and needles assaulting him is overwhelming.


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N. - So here's the back half of chapter 3. This chapter kicked my butt. Let me know what you think, and if I've wandered too far off the path, feel free to let me know. _

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JAX

Jax feels a little like he's trapped in a space donut when the table he's on slides into the CT scanner. He doesn't like confined spaces, doesn't like cages and doesn't want to sit in one for the next few years.

He needs to check in with Stahl. Jax didn't get the full story from Unser but he knows Agent Tyler was killed when everything went down with Salazar. Tyler was her girlfriend and Jax needs to make sure Stahl's head is still in the game; that she's focusing on their deal. He doesn't know what he'll do if all of his careful planning falls apart because Stahl's a grieving mess, but he's pretty sure that won't happen. She's one cold bitch.

The technician tells him through an intercom that Jax is moving and messing up the scan of his brain. He doesn't feel like he's moving. He wonders for a moment if this dude is fucking with him, but Jax also knows that of all the items on the long and sordid list of things he does well, sitting still is not one of them.

The technician tells him to relax, close his eyes and think of something nice. Jax snorts and shuts his eyes. He tries for nice but the images that pop up are vivid and anything but pleasant. Ireland comes roaring back. Ashby getting in the car with Jimmy. Paddy Telford dead on the ground, his arm laying six feet away from him and four more Sons blown to shit. Clay pushing McGee off of the roof. O'Neil squealing with his stomach peeled open and him pulling the trigger.

The intercom goes off again. Jax is still "wiggling" according to the technician. The guy offers to give Jax the sedative they use on children to keep them still, and Jax is now sure the guy's fucking with him. He really wants to go punch this punk but they're going to be done cleaning Tara up soon and he wants to be there for the ultrasound. If the baby isn't okay - which it will be or he's going to burn the Calaveras' clubhouse to the ground tonight- Tara's going to need him. Jax closes his eyes again and tries to cooperate.

Trinity passes through his mind. He likes Trinity. She's pretty and genuine and he felt an immediate connection with her. He wishes he would have understood that connection better before things got out of hand. He joked about it, made Trinity and his mother laugh to smooth the situation, because it's either take it lightly or blow the back of his head off. And they didn't get far enough to warrant eating his gun.

Jax feels a mortified smile creeping up on him and he wants nothing more than to put his hands over his face and die a little bit. Holding still has never sucked this much, and if that fucker starts this scan over again, somebody is losing a finger. He swore Gemma to secrecy, and as long as Tara and the guys don't find out, it's not the end of the world. He wants to get past it and get to know her better. Still though, he could have gone his whole life -_the whole fucking thing-_ without knowing what his baby sister's tits felt like.

It's like karma wanted to curb stomp his ass. He really wasn't looking for anything beyond a conversation with a decent person after all of the death. She took him off guard when she kissed him, but then again he's never been that great at saying no to what's offered. He doesn't think the universe could have screamed any louder if it was trying to tell him to stop fucking every woman he kind of digs. Come on Jax, he says to himself, think of something nice.

The first time he has sex is the summer after his dad dies. She's a young crow eater, and based on how it goes down, he's pretty sure Clay set the entire thing up. Maybe he's helping Jax get through the grief and out of his funk, or maybe he's distracting Jax from the move he's making on Gemma. Either way, it works. The girl is very funny and has legs that can squeeze the breath out of him. He knows she's too young to buy liquor but old enough that his mom will beat somebody's ass if she finds out about them. So it stays between Jax and Clay.

For a few weeks she treats him like a project, lets him wander her body, and does ridiculous shit with her mouth that makes every one of his previous experiences feel after school fumbles. She pins him down with her knees on his shoulders and tells him she's going to do his dick the biggest favor. That he's going to be thanking her for years. She says with his looks he can get any girl he wants in bed once, but the key to getting them in bed twice, is not being a lousy, selfish lay. Then she shows him _exactly_ how to make her cum.

She isn't his girlfriend, what they have isn't special, and he's happy for her when she hooks up with a patched member from Vegas and moves out of town. He does want to thank her though. She's whet his appetite, armed him with knowledge, and blown open a door for him into a new realm of possibilities with girls.

Sophomore year Jax cuts a sexual swath through Charming High School. Girls are so easy for him to understand and subtly manipulate. He loves it, loves the game of it, knows just how much to flatter, tease, goad and reassure them into doing what he wants. And what he wants is to get into their pants. Unlike Opie, whose hook ups are always turning into girlfriends, Jax keeps it casual. He has a knack for getting an uncomplicated fuck out of somebody, and making them think it was their idea to have a fling with him. He makes them feel impulsive and daring, and afterwards they'll exchange conspiratorial grins from across the hallway, pleased to have a secret.

Jesus Christ, but that shit _does not work_ on Tara.

He can't remember a time when he didn't know her. He always thought she was pretty, even back when pretty girls made Jax want to pester them until they were screaming mad. Sometimes they hung out after school and she was really fucking sweet to him when his dad died, but it isn't until the start of sophomore year that they go from being friendly, to being friends.

Tara doesn't have a crowd. She sort of floats between groups; trying on new hats. She makes great grades and is buddies with Hale, who is so uptight, but she's also the girl who brings a pilfered fifth of her father's whiskey to every party. Jax likes how smart she is, how he never loses her in a conversation, and how her ass looks in her favorite pair of jeans. She's a good girl who smokes pot sometimes and who knocked the shit out of a junior girl for raggin' on her old man. Jax wants to see where the good girl ends and the rest of Tara begins.

He pursues her, throws his best game at her, and she never responds the way he expects. Tara doesn't giggle when he compliments her; she narrows her eyes and grows suspicious. And when he tries to goad her into doing something and make her think it's her idea, Tara cuts right through his crap and says,

"_What do you want from me Jax?"_ It's unsettling the way she can puncture his ego with an exasperated sigh, but Jax decides he likes the challenge.

Tara doesn't always win. He can tell she likes him. There are flashes of it in her eyes and in the way she blushes when he slips his arm around her waist and walks her to class. Sometimes if he plays it just right, she'll make out with him, but she always puts on the brakes before things get interesting. Jax doesn't sweat it too much. There are plenty of other girls who don't put on the brakes and he'll just have to come at Tara from a different angle.

Jax finds the right angle when he tries, of all things, being real with her. He learns that she's built a giant barrier around herself because she doesn't trust anyone, and it's why she doesn't have any close friends. And it's probably because her family is fucked up. Her mother's death leaving her old man a drunken shell who ignores her very existence, which Jax can't fathom because the deaths in his family turned his mom into an overprotective mountain lion.

He finds out her hair smells like apples, the skin on her lower back is the softest he's ever touched, and if he runs his fingers up her spine she shivers. If he sucks on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, she'll shove him away because she likes it too much and it makes her resolve against him weaken. And one night, while they are both drunk at a bonfire, when Jax can't take the mystery one second longer, he flat out asks her what kind of underwear she wears. Tara's mouth pops open in surprise and then she hands him her cup.

"_Quit being such a whore Teller. Dump the rest of them_." She says with a smile before slowly unbuttoning her jeans and flashing him one perfect hip covered in pale pink cotton panties. Her smile turns impish when he lunges at her, and she takes off running before he can scoop her up and carry her into the woods.

Though she's said it before, Jax listens to her this time when she tells him the way to get in her pants, to get inside that barrier she's built between her and the world, is to cut out the shit with all the other girls. He goes from chasing half the school to just chasing her and it changes everything. Tara pulls him closer when he sucks on her neck. She pounces on him while he's in mid sentence, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, hauling him to her and demanding urgent kisses.

They spend long mellow afternoons passing a joint back and forth, talking about everything. He learns she has huge dreams but she's pretty sure her life is going to be disappointing, and while she's cautious about almost every little thing in her daily life, she can be fearless about the big stuff, like when she later gets a tattoo at seventeen marking her as his forever.

Jax is so busy trying to get Tara to let him in that it takes him awhile to realize _he's_ let _her_ in. That the crazy spinning feeling, the stupid smile he wakes up with, and the tugging need to have her always pulled tight against his side means he's fallen in love with her.

Combing through his thoughts about Tara, Jax stays still for the rest of the scan. When the technicians are done with him, they lead him to the neo-natal waiting room and tell him Tara will be ready in a few minutes.

Jesus, did they really have to bring him to the room where he broke up with her? He bounces his legs and pulls out a smoke. He knows he can't light it, but holding the cigarette between his fingers eases a little of his jittery energy.

He doesn't want to think about that night, the things he said, the shit he did, the look on her face the next morning, her tiny heartbroken intake of breath when he kissed her goodbye. Nope. Not doing it. Not fucking thinking about it. He didn't know she was pregnant. He thought he was doing the right thing. Not gonna crucify himself about this. The careful numbing and severing of his ties to her didn't hold through that night, when he was drowning himself in whiskey and pussy, and he felt like he'd carved great big holes in his body. God Damn it, he's not going there!

He gets up and paces the room. Grabs his phone and checks the time. They've only been at St. Thomas for a half an hour. For Jax it feels like a lifetime. Too much is going on, too many balls in the fucking air. Tomorrow is one of the most important days of his entire life. The freedom of so many people hinges on him pulling off some serious James Bond shit in the next twenty-four hours. This thing between them needs to be settled. He only has tonight with her and his son. He doesn't have time to fix it the way he wants, to make it right.

Jax sits back down and puts his hands over his face. Earning Tara's trust should be considered an Olympic event, and it's not something he takes lightly. She can, with a blink, close the shutters down tight on her eyes, and with the smallest movement hold her body as if she's bracing for a storm. He saw it that day, when he said he was done. She didn't yell, or slap his face, or plead; Tara clamped down and hid from him.

There's another memory pressing on the side of his head, wanting to be let in. This one is sweet and Jax doesn't want to look at it either. He doesn't need to. He knows every inch of this one, every nuance. He bumps his fist against his throbbing forehead, trying to keep it out, but it moves like smoke and it finds a way to filter through.

He takes her virginity in his room, on his bed, with his dresser pulled six inches past the door frame because she's paranoid Clay or Gemma will come home and walk in on them. He's so fucking careful with her. Takes it slow and kisses her entire body. Can feel her heart racing as it thumps against his chest and when he pulls her legs up to wrap them around his hips, he notices that the muscles in her thighs are quivering; that she's shaking.

It's painful at first for both of them as they try to find a way for him to fit inside of her. But after the pain fades and she says she's okay, when he can move, Jax begins to feel something almost indescribable. As if an un-nameable part of him is filling up and spilling over. He doesn't know what to do with it, how to deal. It's never happened before. He's embarrassed to find this overflow forming into words that he is whispering into the hollow of Tara's neck.

He doesn't want to look at her. If she's laughing at him or even raising her eyebrows, he knows this won't happen again, not like this. But she doesn't do that. She gently pulls him to her lips, so she can kiss him. Tara holds him there and won't let him burrow into her shoulder. All of the confessions he can't stop making are delivered against her mouth and into her eyes which are so open he feels like he can see every hidden piece of her.

Jax knows she's not leaving him. He knew it the instant she kissed him in the ambulance. She'll stay in Charming, be his Old Lady, and raise his kids. But the question that's circling him, nipping at him and then darting away, is will she ever look at him in the same way again?


	5. Chapter 5

_A.N.- I feel like I should apologize on the behalf of my "angry inner fangirl" for both the length in time between updates and the almost criminal level of angst in this chapter. In an attempt to find a logical emotional throughline for Tara in filling in all of those gaps left by the show, I ended up getting really pissed off. Like maybe Tara really does belong in Chicago kind of pissed, and that's so NOT where I wanted this story to end. So I took a break and found the love again. Thank you very much for all of the reviews. I really do take what you guys say to heart and pay attention to what hits and misses. The next chapter will be lighter and it will contain Jax/Tara in the same room and it will also feature Abel. It's almost finished. I just need to edit out the parts that suck and replace them with stuff that doesn't. :) **Gnrclln - **the reckoning you're looking for is still coming. I promise._

_Special shout out and thank you to **Noriffic** for reading parts of this chapter, giving feed back, and encouraging me to keep going when I got really stuck. I'm out of the rabbit hole! Yay!_

* * *

TARA

Tara doesn't ask her to do it, but the nurse escorting her into staff locker room at St. Thomas opens both shower curtains, peers down every aisle and in every toilet stall, before pronouncing the room empty. The woman's face is kind and her eyes hold a little too much understanding as she looks at Tara. She sets down the shower stool she brought in with her.

"You're safe in here. If you need anything, just let us know Dr. Knowles," the nurse says putting her hand on Tara's shoulder as she's leaving.

"Thank you." Tara says wishing furiously that she could remember this woman's name. They've worked together before, she knows she knows it, but it's been a long couple of weeks and Tara's not feeling her sharpest. Still, she hates when she acts like a cliché. And a doctor who can't remember the nurse's name is a big one; so arrogant and so typical.

In her locker she finds the extra change of clothes she always keeps on hand, her travel bag of toiletries **–**their presence making her moan with relief**-** and her purse. The last time she saw it was in Margaret's car before Salazar and Luisa transferred them into the attic. Tara digs to the bottom of the purse. She hears her keys jangling before her fingers close around them. Fantastic, they can take her cutlass home. She silently blesses Margaret and her tenacious, organized mind.

She tries both shower stalls, and no matter how far she turns the handles, or how long she waits with her arm under the spray, Tara can't seem to get the water hot enough. There was a time today when she thought she would never be cold again, was actually delirious from the heat. But she did cool down, and she kept cooling down until the chill feels as if it has seeped into her bones and is radiating out through her skin in a fine tremor.

Tara settles on a stall, climbs in, and goes face first into the water. She leaves the shower stool the nurses insisted she use, outside of the curtain. They wouldn't let her shower unassisted without one, but those stools are for the sick and the elderly. She took it to keep them from hovering, but she doesn't feel like she needs it.

What she needs is to see Abel. She won't feel like it's all really over until she's got him in her arms, but she also needs to see the ultrasound and make sure the new baby is healthy. One half of her –the half with the M.D. – is pretty sure they're fine. Abel's a resilient little thing and the shot she took to the ribs was nowhere near her womb. The other half of her, the part that's stared down the business end of four different guns since she came back to Charming, still can't believe she's coming out the end of this horror story alive, with everybody she loves intact. It's almost too much to wish for and she feels herself waiting for a pendulum of consequences to swing back and knock her on her ass.

Tara pours way more shampoo than she needs into her hand. She really wants to make sure her hair comes clean. That she gets all of the attic dust, all of the trunk grime, and all of that woman off of her. Luisa was going to shoot her when she kicked open the door, Tara's sure of that. But Tara knows that's just convenient timing for her own moral compass because as she waited in the tub clutching her broken piece of mirror, she knew she was done being a good hostage. She was going to slice Luisa no matter how she opened the door.

Hopefully Jax is getting along with the medical staff. He's not the world's most agreeable patient, even at the best of times, and right now he's stretched to the snapping point. When their ambulance was met by a handful of people and two wheelchairs, Tara obeyed the hospital policy and sat down in one of them. Jax just raised his eyebrows and walked right past the other one. The nurse turned to her and gave her wide scandalized eyes. Tara shrugged back at her. Red hot pokers probably wouldn't have gotten Jax in that wheelchair and she was way too preoccupied to stress about little bureaucratic shit.

Once he realized they were being separated he didn't want the CT scan. He resisted the staff and refused to leave her side, but there was no way Tara was letting him skip it.

Jax was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, and the muscles in his jaw were working as he ground his teeth. She went to him, very conscious of all the curious eyes upon them, and touched his shoulder lightly. He looked at her and there was a hurricane brewing on his face. Tara gestured down the hallway and they walked away from the waiting staff so they could have a little privacy. She grabbed the edges of his cut and leaned into him.

"Please go with them Jax. I'll be okay." She pleaded. "But if you have a closed head injury, we need to know now."

"No. I'm not doing it." He said stubbornly, shaking the head in question. "I'm fine and I'm not leaving. I don't care how calm you sound right now, if things don't look good…" He looked away from her and couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

_Oh. _Understanding filled her. It wasn't about the scan, it was about the ultrasound. He wanted to be with her if it turned out the baby was no longer viable. Shame, hot and thick, poured onto her shoulders, and trickled down to pool in her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Oh God, he'd hate her if he knew she came _this close_ to aborting their baby. What the fuck was she thinking?

"Jax, I think the baby's okay. I really do. We're just looking for confirmation." She said and she almost believed it, but admitting her own worries wasn't going to get him any closer to the CT scanner. His eyes narrowed while his mouth opened into a cynical little half smile. It's the face he always wears right before he calls bullshit on her. That look pierces her. It makes her squirm and look away even when she's telling him the truth, and when she's hiding something, or downplaying her own panic, like she was in the hallway, it can be unbearable.

Tara knows he didn't see any of Abel's ultrasounds, and with the assault charges pending, this might be his only shot to see one of this baby. She decided she could deal with her panic for a little while longer if it meant she could stall for him. Her hand slid up to his face and she ran her thumb along his jaw line.

"We'll wait for you. I promise."

"Can you do that?" He still looked skeptical.

"I think I can hold them off." She glanced down at herself. "I'm covered in bio-hazards. I'll demand a shower." She moved even closer to him. "Please Jax. Do this for me." After a moment, he nodded.

It's definitely not the worst deal she's ever made. Soap has never smelled so much like happiness, and now she and Jax can see the ultrasound together. She wanted to be the one to tell him about the baby. Needed to glimpse his first reaction; the small impulse of either joy or panic before his face locked into whatever emotion he wanted her to see. But Gemma couldn't have kept her secret once the club got word she was taken. Jax needed to know exactly what was at stake.

Really, _what was she thinking_? They aren't like Lyla and Opie. She does know Jax; feels like she can trace the contours of his soul almost as easily as she could her own. And he's nothing like Kohn. Even when they're broken, it's not like the first time she was pregnant. Tara rinses her hair while she drifts back to the day she made the decision to cut ties with Joshua forever.

He doesn't start out crazy or scary. He grows that way in small, reasonable, deceptive increments. The neediness, the overwhelming attention to her personal details develops an edge and he hurts her… twice. The first time he sobs his apology, and manages to wrap his violent regrets and her own well observed faults, in a bouquet of guilt to place at her feet. The second time it's worse and there's no apology that can fix it, so she changes her locks and buys a package of bullets. It's a bitter pill that her ATF boyfriend, the one who insisted she needed a weapon and the one who pushed through her permit, is the person she's planning on shooting with her newly loaded gun.

She's known she's pregnant for a week and has been to two different police stations seeking a restraining order, when he hides in the stairwell of her apartment building. He barrels up behind her as she's turning the lock and forces his way into her home. Tara's not sure why he bothered with the rush attack. She knows the lock change doesn't keep him out. Her books, her music, and her underwear never seem to stay where she puts them.

Kohn knocks her down, straddles her, and pins her hands underneath her. He brings his face close to hers and he sounds so pleasant while he explains why they are meant to be together. Tara doesn't want him to see how scared she is, doesn't want him to see her cry. The utter disconnect of his face gets to her though. The wrongness of it is chilling. He's calm, happy even, as his hands slither under her clothes to pinch the tender flesh of her torso. And he tells her she's being silly, overreacting, when the tears spill over onto her cheeks.

The next day she goes to a third precinct and when met with the expected skepticism she lifts her shirt and shows the officer the dozen purple bruises dotting her body. She gets her restraining order, and that day she realizes she will never be free of Kohn if she has his baby. She'll have to move off of the planet to escape him. Tara makes the appointment, and while it's not an easy decision, it's the right one.

Of course he finds out and it only makes him angrier. She has to run, get the hell out of Chicago because she's pretty certain he's working himself up to do something drastic. She's afraid his outrage at her unwillingness to belong to him, will paint him into a corner where he sees no other option but to kill her. Tara's certain that's where he's heading when he shows up in Charming. But it doesn't go that way because Jax ends Kohn for her.

Joshua toys with Jax, taunts him, and stomps all over his territory. Too smug or crazy to understand, as he builds the bomb inside Jax's head, just how short Jax's fuse really is when it comes to her. Joshua references their history, obsesses about it, but he doesn't really understand it. In the end it's an insult, a slur –_whore- _that sets Jax off; snaps his head to the side, his face screwing up. He splatters the contents of Josh's head all over her room before the last of his gleeful taunts –_biker slut_- can finish echoing off of her walls.

Then in her gratitude, her horror, and in her overwhelming relief she kisses him. She doesn't mean to. It just sort of happens and it leads to something she and Jax will probably never fully talk about. Tara feels pulled out of time and space; trapped between the past and the present, between the dead man on the floor and the man in her arms who has haunted her for over a decade. His hands are rougher, more calloused, and yet cleverer than they used to be. His shoulders have filled out and there are new lines on his face that she wants to greet with her fingertips, but the taste and touch of his lips are familiar. The heavy tang of blood hangs in the air and it's distracting to Tara, makes her crane her neck to try and look at Kohn, but Jax pulls her back to him with a kiss to her neck.

"_Don't look at him." _Jax says moving above her and Tara suddenly realizes they're naked and they're going to do this. When he enters her she feels the chaos within her go still –God, she's missed him- and she's doesn't even think of Kohn again for a very long while.

Later she wonders what it says about her that she sleeps with Jax while Kohn is working his way towards room temperature; has trouble looking in the mirror the next morning. Lately though, she's been wondering what it says about her that she doesn't really care anymore. It takes her awhile to admit it to herself, but she's not sorry he's dead and what she takes from that night, what she holds onto, is that at one of her most dire moments, Jax took her mind elsewhere, held her together, and kept her from fragmenting into brittle damaged shards. What she doesn't expect is to be able to repay the favor.

There are some nights, after Donna dies, as they are navigating their new life together, when Jax is different. He's serious, troubled, and not remotely playful or teasing. They are almost always late nights and she's already half asleep. He walks from the front door into the bathroom, and shows up in bed minutes later warm and damp from the shower. She rolls to greet him and before the words have left her mouth, he's fallen upon her, his kisses hungry and insistent. It's like he's looking to consume her and be consumed by her.

It's not until the night he won't meet her eyes and she finds the bloody bandanna in his jeans, when he confesses to shooting yet another man in the head that she realizes what's different about those times with him. Those are the nights when he's struggling with his choices, with his anger, with who he is as a human being. And she loves that he struggles. That it's not easy for him to kill, even if the man deserved to die because he shot Donna and devastated Opie's family. That what he's looking for is solace, like they found in each other the night they killed Kohn.

On nights like this she begins to anticipate what he needs and joins him in the bathroom. Upset men can be very tricky. Tara's learned the hard way that they don't like to feel pitied or condescended, and it can painfully blow back on her if the comfort she offers is unwanted. So she's wary the first time she goes to him, but it's Jax standing there in conflict, not her father, not Joshua, nor any of the other jackasses she dated after she left Charming. It's Jax, and while he can't always articulate his feelings, he's never denied her access to them. Never, not once, and she feels like, whatever the result, she has to at least try with him.

He doesn't turn around as she drops her clothes to the floor. He stays with his forehead pressed against the tile wall while she climbs in behind him. The air is steamy and warm, but the hot water hitting her in splashes around his body is too much of a contrast and her skin floods with goose bumps. She reaches out her hands and carefully rubs them up his back. The muscles under her fingers are rigid and she waits to see if this is what he wants from her.

He blows his breath out and some of the tension leaves his body. Tara moves closer to him, bringing her hands down to his hips. She leans forward and kisses one of his shoulder blades. She loves how his skin feels against her mouth when it's covered in droplets of hot water. She runs her trail of kisses across his back to the other shoulder and Jax straightens up to reach for her wrists. She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tight while his fingers entwine with hers.

They stay that way for awhile before he moves her hands lower on his body and Tara smiles against his back. He turns to face her, pushing her back against the wall, his fingers going to her thighs, and hoisting her up on his body. Tara has one arm wrapped around his neck while the palm of her other hand is sliding against the smooth tile trying to brace herself, and she's thinking for the fiftieth time that maybe Jax should just install a pull up bar in the shower so she has a solid handhold -and fuck all the taunting things Gemma will have to say about that- when Jax nips at her chin. She can see that the fire in his eyes has gentled.

_"Thank you."_ He whispers against her lips before his mouth closes over hers.

Sometimes she gets it wrong. Some nights when he heads straight for the shower he's not struggling, he's just dirty. And those times he turns and grins at her through the fogged up shower door, before opening it a crack to watch her undress, his anticipation naked in his face.

But on the nights when the battle raging inside him is so fierce she can almost feel it through his skin, and his fingers flex against the tile, he always waits for her to come to him. And as these nights grow more frequent, as the club's business leaks all over the rest of their lives, Tara knows there's something big coiling in Jax that he's keeping from her. She wants to know what it is, suspicious it's deeper than Jax pushing Clay for change in SAMCRO, but she's hiding Gemma's rape from him and so she leaves it be. She offers him understanding without demanding answers, even though they've promised each other total disclosure. For his part, Jax allows her to soothe him, lets her ease him back to center for a short time before the next day twists him up again. At least until she finds herself frozen, unable to act, and she fails Abel so badly.

Tara's arms have grown tired and she can't get all of the conditioner out of her hair. She leans against the side of the stall for a moment before pulling the stool into the shower and collapsing down upon it. This isn't defeat, she tells herself. She doesn't need the support. She can stand perfectly fine on her own. It's just easier to soap her legs sitting down.

That day, after the questioning, after they've led her past Half-Sack's sheet covered body, Chibs finds her curled up in a chair in Hale's office. She sits up immediately when she sees him, begging him to tell her they somehow caught up with Cameron, but Chibs' mouth is a long grim line when he shakes his head no. He offers to take her to Jax, who is back at the clubhouse.

The place is empty when they get there. Chibs tells her the whole club is out trying to find Abel and hide Gemma. Opie comes out of Jax's dorm room as they approach. He looks at her for a moment and then pulls her to his giant chest. Tara's surprised, Opie doesn't hug her very often, but then she sinks into him and tries really hard to keep herself in one piece.

"_We gotta go. He's in bed. " _Opie says gently and he kisses the top of her head. He pulls away from her and looks her in the eyes. _"You have to take care of him. Okay?" _Tara nods and goes to find Jax.

The covers are rumpled and pulled down, but Jax is not in his bed. She calls out for him, but there is no answer. The dorm room is not that big. There are only so many places he can be. She walks into the bathroom and that's where she finds him, sitting fully dressed on the floor of the shower, one hand curled around a bottle of whiskey. His face is covered in hectic red patches and his nose is running. She can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as a sob breaks through, and he knocks the back of his head repeatedly against the shower wall.

Tara rushes to him, without thinking, without caution, kneeling beside him and reaching out to hold him. But even in this state, Jax is quicker than her. His hands shoot up and grab her by the wrists before she can make contact. He turns his face away from her and looks at the wall.

"_Please Tara…" _he starts, and he sounds like he's been swallowing cement. _"Don't touch me. Just… just… go away."_ He lets her wrists go, but there's a bit of a shove in the way he does it, just in case she didn't get the hint from what he said. Just in case she was wondering what he thought about her part in Abel's abduction? Tara does what he asks. She gets up and leaves him be, trying to ignore the spreading pain his words punched through her body. He doesn't speak to her again for three long, lonely days.

She barely has any contact with the guys and she never sees Clay who is frantically trying to stamp out the fires engulfing his family from two different directions. She mostly sees Miles, a hang around who must be in charge of bringing them food every couple of hours. Jax won't eat any of it, and only seems to move from his spot in the shower in the brief moments when she leaves the dorm room, or during the scraped together minutes of sleep she finds alone in his bed. But he ferrets out his back up stash of weed from the dresser drawer and at some point he gets a new bottle of Jack Daniels from the clubhouse bar.

There's a lot of time to think, to anguish about Abel, and worry about the coming baby. She also has a lot of time to find her resolve. She's not letting Jax do this to her, him freezing her out. The only way through the nightmare is them together, as a team. So she keeps talking to him, though he doesn't respond, and she digs in her heels refusing to budge from his life. She keeps digging in her heels through so much of his bullshit, until he goes for the one thing she said she couldn't forgive of him.

Tara knows he doesn't even like Ima. Sure she's pretty -in a spray on tan sort of way- and she's certainly available, but there is always plenty of "pretty and available" hanging around SAMCRO. And Ima? She's mean and she's stupid. Jax has never tolerated dumb bitches, even when they were teenagers. After she left he married Wendy, who has always been complicated. Who is tragic and self destructive, but never mean and never stupid.

It's like he set her up, wanted her to find him naked and tousled with a porn star lounging in his t-shirt, just so the knife could be wedged in that much deeper. Just so she could understand he was serious about the break up. And as much as that hurts, she almost hopes that's what he did. It's less crushing than the other option; a notion so private that she could never speak it out loud.

That he was so upset when he left the hospital, he might have sought out solace from Ima, a woman he doesn't even like. If he can do that with her, he could do it with anyone. All those tender, passionate moments they shared… after Kohn… in the shower. She's humiliated by her own naiveté in assuming that intensity was about them and their connection. What if it was never about them? What if it was always about him exorcising his demons; his unique way of banishing the bad shit from his head? What if the act is what is important to Jax, not the person he shares it with?

Tara folds in on herself, collapses down onto her thighs, letting the spray of the water hit her back, but the tears won't come. It occurs to her that she might in fact be too tired to cry. That it would be too great an effort break down. She feels so stupid. She held onto those times with him like they were a lighthouse guiding them through the panting, eager darkness that constantly surrounds them. But if the light in all of the dark is an illusion, or a delusion, then what's the point of this life? If there's nothing higher, deeper, more significant than sex and death, why is she even here?

Fuck, but Tara knows that's just her feet talking. Her running shoes are trying to whittle her labyrinth of choices down to one path; the quickest route out of Charming. But she's not running, she's already decided that.

Maybe it's good this last piece of naiveté, this now tattered cloak of denial is in question. It's a young and romantic notion that all of their sins could be absolved, or somehow lessened because of their love for one another. Is he less of a killer because he lets her hold him? Is she less of a killer because it's always been self-defense?

What she needs to do is stand the hell up and keep moving, because she's still got a dead woman's blood to scrub out of her nail beds. She still needs to make sure her babies are healthy. She and Jax still need to talk about all of this and she doesn't have any more time today to soul search. How much time does she have with Jax before the bail hearing anyway? It can't be more than a few days. Shit, what day is it? It bothers her that she cannot remember precisely how much time she spent under Salazar's thumb. It bothers her less that she's pleased Jax ripped him open from hip to heart.

Tara has taken too many showers like this one in the months she's been home. She has washed too many murky viscous secrets down various drains. And while she doesn't think it will ever become a casual practice, this cleansing doesn't hold the same horror it did the morning she washed Joshua from her body for the last time. Tara reaches down, and though the spray is turning her chest and arms red, she twists the handle, and makes the water even hotter.


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N.- Here's the first half of the next chapter. It turned out to be a beast at about 6,000 words. Unfortunately I have the flu :( and am way too tired to edit the entire thing for spelling and grammar problems. Look for Chapter 7 in a day or so, as long as the fever stays down. I'm posting what I have done because it's been awhile since I've updated (I'm terrible, I know). I just want to take a moment to thank all of you who review this story. I really appreciate the feedback. And some of you have reviewed every chapter. Again, thank you._

_Special thank you to **ZuZu's Petals **for helping to get my butt in gear, and to **Norrific** for reading this fic in pieces and being a great sounding board._

* * *

JAX

Jax is ready to climb the fucking walls and would really like to shoot somebody. When they lead him into a room with an exam table and baby charts all over the place, and that room doesn't also contain Tara, he wishes Chibs hadn't taken his gun back to the clubhouse. Jax thinks he might deserve a medal for managing to nod his head and thank the staff when they tell him Tara will be a few minutes longer.

Does the hospital always move this slowly? They need to reach out to the Russians before Jimmy disappears into the jungle, or the fucking desert, and is sheltered by yet another shady connection. Jimmy's the key to the entire plan and he can't do anything about it if he's waiting for the wheels of medicine to turn at their own sweet ass pace. Jax sighs. No, he needs to get a fucking grip. Clay's right. Tonight is about family and the Russians are tomorrow. He's gotta flip the switch, enjoy the time he has, and keep it all separate. For Jax it's easier said than done.

He gets up, looking for a distraction, and his eyes land on a development chart. Gemma said Tara was two months pregnant, and he scans the chart until he finds the almost alien picture of a two month old fetus. It isn't pretty. It looks more like a sea-monkey than a baby.

Jesus, when did this happen? They were always so careful, using something every time. After Wendy, Jax didn't trust the pill. Strangely for a doctor, neither did Tara. She wouldn't elaborate, just said she'd been burned by it before, and when pressed she admitted she didn't have a guaranteed 30 minutes in any of her days where she could take the pill. So condoms were their safety net, but Jax knows they don't always work like they're supposed to. He thinks about how he learned that lesson with Tara when they were still teenagers.

It's the summer after they graduate high school the first time their safety net fails. After two brutal hazing years of prospecting, Jax and Opie are finally patching into SAMCRO. It's one of the few things Piney and Clay agree on. Their boys aren't going to glide into the club on some sort of legacy bullshit. Jax spends the years between getting his license and graduating high school resenting the fuck out of Clay and Piney for making them prospect twice –and he's _pissed_ when Gemma supports it- but eventually Jax sees the wisdom in the decision. It isn't about the old guard keeping them down and under thumb, it's about keeping him and Opie from being entitled little pricks, and more importantly it's about keeping the rest of the club from thinking they are entitled little pricks. It's a very smart message to put out through the ranks that nobody gets a free ride. Even the sons of the very founders of the club need to earn those top rockers.

On the night they patch in, the party goes until dawn. Tacoma and Vegas are in town, Happy boxes two different prospects into unconsciousness, and Tara wears a backless top showing off the ink she got six months before she was supposed to and has kept hidden under her shirt until Jax is officially SAMCRO. Piney notices of course. It's hard to get one past the old man. He ambles up to Jax and nods his head toward Tara, who is leaning over the bar, ass sticking out, looking to get another beer.

_"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that isn't a fresh crow on Tara's back_._"_ Piney rumbles. "_But prospects don't mark their old ladies so that pretty skin must heal real quickly._" Jax is caught. He doesn't want Piney mad at him, but also doesn't want to admit how important Tara getting the crow early is to him. He thinks sheepish might be the best play, so he grins at Piney and shuffles his feet. It earns him a smack upside his head and a gruff, _"You're lucky I like you kid_,_"_ before Piney switches gears and pulls him into a hug. _"J.T. would've been real proud of you tonight son."_ Piney says before slapping him on the shoulder and going to find his own son to congratulate. Tara makes her way over to him then, a smile tugging on her lips, her hips rolling in the slow way they do when she's had too much to drink and he's about to get fantastically laid.

After several more beers and countless celebratory shots of whiskey, he and Tara lock themselves in the dorm room he claimed. Tara is insane this night; popping the buttons off his shirt, pushing him down on the bed, slapping his hands away when he doesn't move fast enough and tearing down his pants. He flips her, wanting the upper hand, but Tara won't yield the control quietly. She pulls him down to her mouth by his hair and whispers insistent commands in his ear. Not so much telling him what she wants, but hissing what he _better_ do to her. The "or else" is left unsaid as she bites down on his shoulder. Drunk on liquor, pride, and the sweat trickling down Tara's neck, Jax isn't all that careful with the foil on the condom wrapper. He probably rips the fucking thing getting it out of the package. All he knows for sure is it feels better than any time they've fucked before then, and when it's over the condom is busted.

Three weeks after the party Tara is late. She shows up at his house with four pregnancy tests, still wearing her apron from the diner where she waitresses, her brows pulling together with worry. She locks herself in his bathroom and is in there for close to an hour. Jax tries to talk his way into the bathroom. She's panicking and he wants to be with her, but she hollers she can pee on a stick just fine without his assistance. Jax wants to yell back he's already seen her piss, so open the Goddamn door already, but then he remembers they'd been out in the woods, stupidly wasted, and she might not have realized he could see her, and bringing that up while she is already stressing might drive this situation right off the rails. So he keeps his mouth shut and slides down until he is sitting on the floor.

He tries not to freak out as he waits for Tara to read all of the instruction booklets twice. Jax is dreading telling his mom if it turns out he's knocked Tara up; doesn't know if Gemma will throw a party or throw shit at his head. Doesn't think he is ready to be a dad. Knows they don't have the money for a kid, or fuck even an apartment. But then Tara opens the door and holds out her hand for him. She helps him up and wraps her arms around him, tucking her head under his chin. Jax hugs her tight as they stare at the four tests Tara has lined up perfectly on the counter, waiting as the little windows change colors and pink lines form.

She isn't pregnant. They dodge the bullet. Tara lets out a whoop before she grabs his cheeks and kisses him. Her smile is huge and relieved. Jax smiles with her. This is a good thing. They are way too young for this shit, they have _years_ before they need to think about kids, but there is a part of him –the part that can already feel how restless Tara is getting in Charming- that's a little… disappointed when the second pink line never shows up.

A short dark haired doctor walks into the room, startling Jax out of his thoughts. He jerks around reaching for the knife that is no longer on his hip. Tara follows the doctor and Jax is happy to see she's clean and dry and no longer swimming in a pair of huge scrubs. Her eyes dart over to him and she offers him a quick twist of her lips as she climbs up on the examination table.

Shit, she's had time to think. She was clinging to him in the ambulance, but now she's barely looking at him. Her big brain has been spinning in the short time they've been apart, he knows it. And he doesn't feel like any good can come from a close examination of the past few weeks.

The doctor steps out for a moment and Jax walks up to Tara's side. She keeps her head turned towards the door as if waiting for the doctor. He needs to fix this. He can't go away for any length of time with that look still in her eyes, or he'll come home to an empty house and a cold bed. He cups her chin and turns her towards him. A split-second flash of annoyance crosses her face.

"Hey… we okay?" Jax asks stroking her cheek with his thumb. Tara frowns at him and tries to resist his hand.

"Jax. Please not now." She says, but he isn't taking no for an answer.

"We're working with borrowed time here, babe. Now's all we got." Jax says and she looks down at her lap and then closes her eyes."

"I know." She whispers. Jax puts his hands on either side of her face and leans down to her.

"Hey Tara, look at me," and when she doesn't respond he repeats himself louder. "Look at me." She opens her eyes and Jax puts a kiss on her forehead before saying, "Do you have any idea how much I love you? Do you even understand?"

Tara's eyes soften a fraction and she reaches up to rub the back of his hand. She opens her mouth and pauses. She's considering her words and Jax isn't at all sure he wants to hear what she's going to say. Before she can speak though, the doctor breezes back into the room and starts messing with her equipment. Tara looks away from him, shifting her attention to the doctor as she starts the ultrasound, but Tara seeks out his hand and gives it a squeeze.

A fluttering underwater sound fills the room and Tara's hand tightens around his. He cranes his neck to get a closer look at the monitor. He can see something- something is moving- but he can't tell what any of it is. It doesn't look like the alien sea-monkey on the wall chart. It certainly doesn't look like a baby. It doesn't look like anything but static. Jax isn't sure what he was expecting to see, Tara's barely pregnant. It's not like the kid would be in there waving at them. But still, it's a bit of a letdown.

Maybe it shows on his face because the doctor smiles at him and points out where he should be looking. She says it's strong and looks healthy, and then he gets it. The movement and the fluttering are the baby's heartbeat and the baby is going to be okay.

Jax feels Tara's head collapse back against the table. He looks at her. Her eyes are closed and she lets out a big sigh before she bites her lip. Ah fuck, he knew she was bluffing the hell out of him earlier with her "just for confirmation" shit. Tara was more nervous about the ultrasound than he was.

Holy shit! He just saw his baby's heart beating.

There were times in the last few weeks when he didn't think he'd ever get to hold Abel again; was sure in his darkest moments that Cameron threw him into the water as soon as his boat was out of sight. Thought his kid -his Abel- was dead, drowned and lost; a bloated corpse being eaten by fish. And it pressed him flat to the ground. He remembers hearing Tara crying in his dorm room, on her phone begging Hale for scraps of information and hope about Abel, and days later in his kitchen abusing his chairs and cupboards as she grieved and raged. He wanted to go to her, but his body felt so heavy he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't take care of himself or take care of his girl. And even though he didn't really think it was her fault –he was sure the guilt of his murdered child could be laid squarely at his own feet- Jax couldn't grant her the absolution she kept looking for when she tried to talk to him. He couldn't let her off the hook. He just didn't have the energy.

But Abel is alive, Tara is safe, and he's seen the physical proof their new baby is healthy. Jax feels like he's on a roller coaster, cruising around the final stretch and approaching the loading platform. The adrenaline is still pumping and his stomach plummets whenever he allows himself to examine how very close he came to losing all three of them. Everything around him is slowing down and he's waiting for the ride to come to a full and complete stop.

The doctor's left them and Tara's staring at the grainy picture of their baby. She's not talking and Jax has no idea what to say. The room feels suddenly crowded by their past and what he hopes is their future. He reaches for her and she lets him hold her hand, but the face she turns to him is full of questions. _Are you here? Are you in this with us? Can I count on you?_ She seems to be asking him.

Jax again marvels at how off the fucking path he managed to get in just a few weeks. He doesn't know how to answer her unspoken questions with words. His throat is tight and he's not sure he can actually speak at the moment. He leans down and kisses her, putting as much feeling into it as he can. When he pulls back he looks down at her and nods. _Yeah, I'm here. And I'm in it forever. _She smiles at him.

There's something else he feels like he needs to do. He knows she'll like it, it'll mean a lot to her, but he needs to do it as much for himself as he does for her. He just can't believe he's a heartbeat closer to getting everything he's ever wanted. Jax lets go of Tara's hand so he can grab her hips, bend down, and gently kiss her belly.


	7. Chapter 7

_A.N- Thanks for all the well wishes. Feeling a lot better. Hope everyone who celebrates it is have a great 4th of July, and for everyone who doesn't hope you're have a great weekend. And well, here's Abel... _

* * *

JAX

Jax and Tara have made their amends with Unser and Margaret. They've dodged the press -and Jacob Hale- and are on their way to the cutlass. Jax throws an arm around Tara's shoulders and pulls her closer to kiss her temple. Tara smiles at him and reaches her hand up to link her fingers with his. Almost as if it has a mind of its own, his free hand keeps coming around to rub her stomach. He wouldn't be able to get it to stop if he wanted to. When they get to her car,Tara digs the keys out of her purse and hands them to him, which is not like her at all. She reads the question on his face and shrugs.

"I'm not really up for driving right now," she admits. Tara starts to walk to the passenger side before she changes her mind and comes back around to him. She puts her hands on his chest and toys with the patches on his kutte. "So, are you happy… about the baby?" She asks. Jax can feel the dopiest grin splitting his face in two and he nods.

"Yes, Tara. Definitely yes." He says and she leans up to kiss him.

"Good. So am I." She says against his neck before brushing her lips against his collarbone. She waits until they are in her car and he's pulling out of the spot before she speaks again. "Will you tell me the real story now? What happened in Belfast? I can handle it Jax. I just need to know."

Jax sighs and begins the story again. He tells her as much as he can, leaving out his deal with Stahl and the more unfortunate moments with Trinity. She's amazed he has a little sister and wants to know everything about her and Maureen, and then something must click in her head.

"Wait, she's younger than you? How old is she?" Tara asks.

"She's twenty-two," Jax answers and Tara is quiet as she works out the math.

"Oh wow, she must have been born when…"

"Thomas was really sick." Jax finishes for her. Jax did the math on Trinity himself while waiting in SAMBEL's chapel for word on Abel. His dad was setting up house with a teenager in Ireland while Thomas was dying in California. During that time his mother was practically living at the hospital and Jax was spending a lot of nights at Piney and Mary's house. He always believed Gemma's press about his old man. That he was gone so much because he was trying to make money and save Thomas by getting in deep with the Irish and the guns. But his dad wasn't earning. He wasn't taking care of business. He was running from his family and his responsibilities.

"I'm so sorry Jax. How did Gemma take it?" Tara's voice is soft with compassion as she asks how Gemma handled the walking proof of her husband's infidelity. He glances over at her. Jax can tell by her face her question is honest and not double edged. She's not making a point. Maybe it's just his guilt talking, but the thread of sympathy in Tara's voice is drawing a correlation for him between his father's character and his own, and after a lifetime of trying to be the man he always thought his dad wanted him to be, Jax is surprised to find resentment surfacing at the notion of being like John Teller.

"I guess she knew before she went. She found some love letters my dad wrote Maureen years ago." Jax answers her and moves on with the story.

He blunts the sharper edges surrounding the deaths of O'Neill and McGee. She doesn't need to know about hanging brothers like wracks of meat or the way Clay kissed his life-long friend before killing him. Not that he's been doing a whole lot of sleeping, but in the odd moments when he's found rest, that shit has been playing on repeat in his dreams. He doesn't want any of it tormenting her dreams as well.

When he gets to the part about the Petrie's, he shifts and bends the story so it seems like he was just watching them at the market because he was trying to find a good time to take Abel without involving the police. That is truthfully why he followed them, but that was before they entranced him with their promises of a safe, peaceful life for his son. He was watching them so intently. He saw when Abel's new hat was crooked, the edge covering one of his eyes, and Jax's hands burned to walk over there and fix the damn thing. But the couple noticed too, and made sure it sat right before continuing their shopping.

They passed so near to him at the end, the woman whispering to Abel she already loved him and Jax's warring emotions grew so big and violent the man felt it. He looked unsettled by Jax, by this stranger who was staring at his family and bleeding all over his day. He threw Jax a _back off_ look before pulling his wife and Abel closer to him. Jax was sure the man would never kill anyone, had probably never been arrested, and more than likely hadn't thrown a real punch in ten years, but he had good instincts. In a world that wasn't outlaw, this man could keep his son safe. At that moment Jax made his decision.

But Abel's world was already outlaw, and that world -Jax's world- reached out and killed the couple, who were nothing but cannon fodder to Jimmy. Jax knows their limp bodies lying next to all of their brightly colored intentions for his son will sit heavily on his shoulders for a very long time.

Tara is speechless as she listens to the end of the story. She's pulled her legs up onto the seat and she's hugging her knees.

"Is he dead?" She asks finally. Jax gives her a confused look. He's busy keeping the story in his head and the one coming out of his mouth separate and he doesn't know who she means.

"Jimmy. This guy who lied to you about Cameron, killed five Sons, paid off two other members to betray SAMCRO, and who probably killed the priest. Have I got it all Jax?" Rage is washing through her voice as she continues. "This cockroach, who murdered two innocent people just…" She pauses and Jax can tell she's reigning herself in. When she continues her voice is tight and controlled, but still seething as if she's biting into every word. "Just so he could dangle Abel in front of you. Did you kill him?"

"No. I didn't."

"Why not?" Tara spits and he looks at her in surprise. Her face is hard and set in a way that is new to him. She looks resolute, uncompromising, and pitiless, like one of his brothers, like his mother. He weighs how much he should tell her, how much he can tell her. He reasons she can know as much as Gemma does.

"He's up north with the Russians. We're going after him tomorrow."

"Good." Tara says into her knees. Jax shakes his head. This does not sound like Tara at all, and he worries about how his life affects her. What the fuck is SAMCRO doing to Tara? What the fuck is he doing to his girl? Tara's supposed to save lives, not request heads on platters. Jesus Christ…

"After Luisa died, he killed another woman for her car." She says into the silence between them. He looks over at her and the hardness in her face has given way to something far more fragile.

"Yeah I know. I found her." And there it is again, the horrible spike of adrenaline and the quickening of his pulse. "Christ Tara, I thought it was you for a second." Lifting that blanket is an experience he never wants to repeat –_ever_- and he feels like he would tear the world apart to keep it from happening again.

"She thought he was hurt because of the blood. That's why she stopped. He beat her head in because he wanted to kill me. I could hear him screaming about Luisa the whole time…" Tara's eyes are dry but she's hugging herself tightly. "It's my fault she's dead."

_Ah, _Jax thinks he knows where the thirst for Jimmy's blood is coming from; the death of innocents is pressing on her. Jax knows exactly how she feels and he wants very much to hold her, tuck her under his shoulder, and smooth away the lost look on her face. He considers stopping the car but they are on their way to get Abel, and Jax feels an equally strong pull to hold his son. His hands flex around the steering wheel. He needs to have them both where he can see them tonight, so he doesn't go crazy.

"Come here, babe." Jax says as he stretches his arm out towards her. Tara looks at him, checks her seatbelt, and then looks back up at him like he really has gone nuts. It makes him smile. "Tara I'm going twenty-five and you rode for six hours on the back of my bike a week ago. Get your ass over here." She gives him another dubious look, but she unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the cutlass' bench seat and under his arm. He rubs her shoulder while he talks to her. "Tara, that woman, her death. Not your fault. That's on Salazar." Jax can feel her shudder and Tara slips down until she is laying on the seat with her head resting on his leg.

"I should have shot him, but I made a deal with him instead." She mumbles against his thigh.

"Why did you make a deal with him?" He has to ask. Tara shrugs and picks at the seam of his jeans.

"Had to get Margaret out. They didn't need her. He would've killed her." She says and Jax waits for the real answer he's sure is coming. Tara doesn't disappoint him. "He had a gun on me too and I didn't think I could kill him with the first shot. A deal seemed like the only option."

"Still, not your fault. And that fucker is dead."

"I know. Thank you for that." She rubs her hand along his jaw line. "That's twice now, you know." She says and Jax's fear surges again. He doesn't want to think about Salazar anymore and he sure as fuck doesn't want to think about Kohn.

"Shit like this is never happening again Tara. Never fucking again. I won't let it." He says roughly.

They are almost there. Jax slows as he turns onto Gemma and Clay's street. Tara must be able to feel the difference in the car's movement, because she sits up and slides across the seat to press herself against the passenger door. One of her hands is on the handle while the other one is tensed against the dashboard. Jax thinks she looks like she's going to leap out of the car while it's still moving. As it is he barely has her cutlass in park before she's out the door and tearing up the long walk to his mother's house, but she loses steam about halfway there and stops. Jax catches up to her. She's breathing rapidly, her hands rhythmically clenching.

"You okay?" Jax asks her. Tara nods and swallows.

"He's really in there?" She asks and her voice catches.

"Yeah, he is. Come on." He says softly and rubs his hand along her lower back. She goes with him, lets him guide her to the door, and everything in him relaxes as he sees his son. Gemma hands Abel to him, and while he thinks maybe Gemma should have handed Abel to Tara, he's not arguing. Jax doesn't ever want to let him go.

Gemma has Tara wrapped up in her arms and Jax hides his smile against his son's brow. Of course his mom would have to welcome Tara first. She would need to check Tara over and make sure she was okay before anything else happens. It had to kill her to hide away in her home, to not be involved or try to take charge, while everyone else was out searching. Jax is happy Tara's back in the fold with Gemma. His life is so much easier when his mom and his old lady aren't shredding each other daily. Though he worries maybe they've grown a little too close. Gemma's hold on Tara might be too tight. Hiding a body together can do that to people. But Tara is going to need his mom in the coming months, when he won't be there. Jax feels for the quickest moment like he's been punched in the chest before he firmly slams the door shut on that line of thinking.

Gemma lets her go and Tara's eyes go straight to Abel and then flit up to meet his. She's asking him permission to hold the kid. Jax knows before all of this happened, Tara would have just lifted Abel out of his arms. He's pretty sure her hesitance is his fault. Well it's time to fix that shit.

"Here," he says and puts Abel into her waiting arms.

TARA

Tara's heart sings when Jax passes Abel over to her easily. She holds him up, stretching the moment out so she can really see him, feel his weight, and re-memorize his tiny face. Abel smiles at her and she feels herself smiling back as her vision grows blurry. Jax and Gemma are talking quietly, but Tara doesn't have the focus to listen to what they're saying. She pulls Abel to her chest and makes every effort not to squeeze him too tightly. She's gotta keep it together. Abel's getting to the age where big displays of emotion scare him and she really doesn't want to frighten him with the huge waves crashing through her, with the primal need to crush him to her body. Tara kisses his damp little neck to make him giggle. His arms swing together to grab her cheeks as he laughs, and the toy in his hand bounces off her face.

"Is that a new toy?" Tara asks him. She puts another kiss on the crown of his head and inhales his baby scent. Instead of comfort, she feels alarmed. Something is off. She sniffs again. Abel doesn't smell right. There is no trace of the baby products she and Jax slather on him every day. It is a scent ingrained in her, since she carries it on her hands even at work. One time a medical student asked her how old her baby was based solely on the powdery lotion smell she gives off when walking into the hospital. This is a different brand, its perfume unfamiliar, and she doesn't like it. She looks down at him and the sleeper he's wearing is one she's never seen before.

"Gemma, is this new? Where did he get this outfit?" Tara interrupts Gemma and Jax's conversation.

"A gift from the Irish." Gemma rolls her eyes, putting a hand on her hip. Tara can feel herself frowning. He's here in her arms now, but that's only part of the story. All of her relief at seeing the baby safe is washed away by panic over who has been caring for him while he was gone. All of these people, with their different and colliding agendas passing him around like a hot potato. Who has been feeding him, changing him, bathing him, dressing him in new clothes, giving him new toys, putting him up for adoption, murdering people so he can be used for leverage? So many violent strangers had their hands on her baby. Were all of them kind to him? Jesus, do Jax and Gemma even know what to look for?

Tara walks out of the kitchen, carries Abel into the room Gemma uses as his nursery, and lays him down on the changing table. She pulls off his socks and unsnaps his outfit. She barely hears Jax walk up behind her.

"Is he wet?" Jax asks. Tara doesn't answer as she removes Abel's t-shirt. "Tara, what are you doing?"

"I just need to look at him." Tara says as she runs her fingers over Abel's scalp. She examines him from head to toe looking for bruises, lumps, and any other signs of abuse or neglect while he was missing. She finds a little diaper rash –what were those people feeding him- but Gemma's got it handled. Other than that, nothing …

Jax was right. He's perfect.

Tara exhales and feels the last of the painful twisting in her center finally unknot and fall away. The absence of that guilt and heavy sorrow, which has been her constant companion for nearly three weeks, is an almost euphoric feeling, and when Tara presses the palms of her hands to her eyes, she doesn't know if she is laughing or crying.

Abel is just happy to be naked and Tara can hear him kicking his feet against the changing table while he gurgles and squeals. She can also feel Jax moving around beside her.

"You know what little man, she's not paying attention so we're just going to cover that up." Jax says and Tara peeks through her hands to see Jax throw a washcloth over Abel. She thinks of all the SAMCRO t-shirts Abel peed on before Jax learned the washcloth trick and the watery emotional see-saw she's balancing on tips firmly over into laughter. Jax kisses her shoulder and rubs her back while she pulls herself together.

She re-dresses Abel quickly. Noticing how intently he is gnawing on his toy, she checks his gums, feeling for changes. Tara lifts him up and kisses his belly. "I missed you so much." Tara settles him back into her arms. "He's really okay." Tara says to Jax and she can hear the amazement in her own voice.

"Yeah, he is. So are you satisfied Doc?" Jax asks. His voice sounds amused and he's smiling, but the look in his eyes is incredibly soft. She cups his face with one of her hands, looking at the shadows under his eyes. God he's so exhausted, Tara thinks and kisses him gently before answering.

"Yes I am. He's cutting two new teeth so he might get really fussy."

"Abel's never fussy, are you son?" Jax slides one hand around Tara's hip and strokes Abel's head with the other. Abel reaches up and tugs at Jax's hair, putting the ends of it into his mouth. Jax laughs and pulls them both closer to him. Tara winds her free arm around Jax's waist, and they both nuzzle into Abel and kiss him. They stay that way for a moment. Just the three of them.

"Everything okay?" Gemma asks from the doorway where she's leaning. Tara wonders how long she's been watching them.

"Everything's fine Ma. I should get them home. It's been a long day and I still need to give my statement about what went down with Salazar." Tara looks at him panicked, almost swaying on her feet with her own exhaustion.

"I thought we already did that. Do I need to go in tonight?" Tara asks. Jax's arm tightens around her waist, holding her upright.

"Nah Babe. You're fine. They just want to talk to me."

Gemma moves into the room and holds Tara's face in her hands. "Love you Tara. You take care of my grandsons tonight. And don't you let him give you any shit about that." Gemma nods towards the changing table. "We did the same thing when we got him." She leans in and kisses Tara and Abel. She pats Tara's stomach and this time Tara lets her. Then she turns and kisses Jax. "Get your family home baby."

Jax gets Abel's other car seat out of Gemma's car and puts it in the cutlass. Tara doesn't want to put Abel down. It physically hurts her to strap him into his seat and leave him in the back to climb in the front with Jax. She lays down again using Jax's leg like a pillow and they're quiet for most of the ride home. She can hear Abel in the back amusing himself, and she's pretty sure they're both listening to him babble; soaking him in. The silence between them isn't strained, it isn't bursting with unspoken thoughts, it's content and Tara doesn't want the moment to ever end. Jax must be thinking along the same lines because he brings her hand to his mouth and kisses every one of her fingertips.

"We have so little time," he murmurs into her palm.

Jax's bike is in the driveway when they get home and Tara's not sure how it got there and she's way too tired to care enough to ask. Jax digs around until he finds his keys under the welcome mat. He brings in the bag of Tara's clothes she packed for Gemma and his own small duffel bag. Tara carries in Abel, who is moments away from passing out. She gets him into his pajamas and then goes to find a pair of her own in Jax's room. She lays Abel down on the bed so she can change and then she scoops him up and crawls under the covers with him.

"Do you want me to put him in his crib?" Jax asks as he digs a hoodie out of one of his drawers.

"No. I want him in here with me." Tara says.

Jax smiles and nods at her. "God, I don't want to leave."

"Well lay down with us for a minute." Tara offers.

This time Jax shakes his head. "Nah babe, if I get in there for even a second, I won't get back out, and I need to go do this." Jax looks around the room running his hands through his hair and Tara can feel the anxiety coming off him in waves. He disappears down the hallway for a moment, and comes back with Tara's car keys and one of his prepays. He drops both of them on the nightstand next to her side of the bed. Then he goes to the closet and pulls out his lock box of guns and ammo. Tara smiles at his back. He must be having a hard time leaving tonight if he's arming her before bed. Jax shows her the revolver he picked out.

"You know how to use this one, right?" He asks and Tara nods. "I'll be back in an hour. This is loaded." Jax puts the gun in the nightstand drawer and leans down to kiss both of their heads. "Always shoot first, Tara. I love you." He whispers in her ear before leaving.

Abel yawns hugely and Tara catches it. She snuggles down and holds Abel tight to her body. In seconds he's fast asleep. Tara watches Abel for awhile, strokes his soft blonde hair, and allows her heart to gently break as one of his little hands curls around her finger, and even in his sleep, he won't let go. She tries to wait up for Jax, but she's bone tired and Abel's warmth and even breathing lull her to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

_A.N- Insert standard apologies here for my being a terribly slow updater. Think I'm going to focus on one-shots for awhile after this fic is written. There's less guilt involved. :) Chapter 10 is already written, but I'm still fighting with Chapter 9, which is the big chapter. My goal is to buckle down and have this done by the time season 4 starts... here's hoping. You guys are great and I'm sorry I don't have the kind of time I want to devote to this fic. **Norrific- **Thanks again for being a great sounding board. _

* * *

TARA

The house is dark when Tara's eyes snap open. Her arms are curled around Abel and the only sound she can hear is the rise and fall of his soft snores. Her hands are twisted into the sheets, clutching them while her heart pounds. Tara slides her arm out from under Abel. The rest of the house is silent but there is a weight to the silence, as if the air itself is recovering from a disturbance, and she is sure it was a noise that startled her awake.

Tara sits up, stops breathing, and really listens. She hears nothing at first, just her own panic rushing in her ears. Then there is the tiniest creak down the hall and a whisper of fabric. Small deliberate noises made quietly -a person concealing their movements- and Tara feels like cold liquid metal is running through her body. There is somebody in the house with her and Abel.

For one crazy moment she thinks it might be Salazar or Luisa, but then she remembers they are both dead. She almost calls out in case it's Jax, until she realizes whoever it is hasn't turned on a light. Calling out would alert him to exactly where she is, to where they both are in the house. Tara looks down at Abel who's still sleeping deeply.

She slides open the nightstand drawer and pulls out the revolver. She's shot it before and it feels good in her hands. She grabs the phone and tries Jax's cell but it goes straight to voice mail. Tara moves to the end of the bed, positioning herself in front of Abel, and trains the gun on the door.

She wonders if maybe she's over reacting and it's one of the guys coming over to check on them, but they would call out to her and announce themselves, not creep around quietly in the dark. And this isn't any cat burglar. Even if theft was a problem in Charming, nobody in their town is breaking into Jax Teller's house to take his television, not if they want to walk away from the situation. If somebody breaks into this house, they're after something a little more serious, a little more personal.

The footsteps are growing louder now, more confident. Tara can pinpoint he's in the kitchen. She wants to grab Abel and make a run for it, but the front door and the back door are both by the kitchen, and she's not getting her and the baby out one of these windows.

She froze with Cameron and she flinched from killing Salazar. Cameron was a friend of the club, her patient, and her mind couldn't wrap around the reality of the club's darker business playing out in Jax's kitchen. She had no weapon, and after Cameron picked up Abel, she had no voice. But there was time to plan with Salazar and when he turned and knelt by Luisa she could have walked right up to him and shot him in the back of the head.

Tara's been wracking her brain all day for why she didn't kill him and she's thought of a thousand reasons: Luisa's gun was new to her, she needed Margaret safe, she might have lost a duel with Salazar, he was weeping for his dying girlfriend, and the biggest one, no matter who was on their knees, Tara never wanted to be an executioner.

All solid reasons, all true, and yet all bullshit because she can see her own truth clearly in this moment. She couldn't pull the trigger because she was afraid. Her fear of the unknown, of making the wrong decision, and having to pay the consequences for it, stayed her hand. Tara can't even begin to fathom the collateral damage from Cameron taking Abel; so many felonies, so many bodies, but she knows shooting Salazar would have spared one woman's life.

He's coming down the hallway, and the gait is funny and off kilter, he's moving too quickly and she needs to make a choice. If she's going to be here, be in this life with Jax, then she has to be prepared for the bad shit to land on her doorstep or come slithering into her home. And she can't depend on Jax to take care of all of it for her. She has to do her part.

Tara looks back at Abel. She's going to have to shoot this guy, whoever he is, whatever he wants. No warnings and no "freeze mother-fucker." She can't give him an inch, not if she wants to take chance out of the equation and guarantee she and Abel will make it out of this alive.

She has to be ruthless.

He's almost to the doorway and Tara loosens her grip but holds it steady. The revolver feels like an old friend of hers and Tara is sure she's never going to flinch again. She takes a deep breath and cocks the hammer.

The tiny click seems to echo through the quiet house. The man hears it too, and like any good criminal, he hits the deck.

"Jesus Christ!" He shouts a split second before he lands with a grunt on the hallway floor.

Oh fuck, she knows that voice and a whole different kind of panic floods through her body.

"Jax?" Tara asks.

"Yeah?" He answers from the floor and he sounds like his face is smashed into the carpet.

"Holy Shit! I almost shot you." She sets the gun gingerly on Jax's dresser and runs over to him, stopping only to shut the bedroom door so they don't wake up Abel.

"I think I figured that out." Jax says as he sits up. Tara can see him better up close but there is a blanket of heavy shadow in the hallway. She climbs into his lap and hugs him tight. "Maybe the gun was a bad idea. You're still pretty spooked," he adds and she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Why were you knocking things over in the dark?" She asks shifting so she's straddling his hips. Jax wraps his arms around her waist and presses his lips to her collar bone.

"I was trying not to wake you guys up and I tripped over our goddamn bags I left in the hallway. Fucked my knee up when I landed."

"Are you okay? You were limping. You want me to look at it?" She asks pulling away from him a little bit. Jax tugs her back into his body.

"No I want you right here," he murmurs and the kisses he's laying on her chest and shoulders deepen, grow wetter and hint at the teeth behind his lips. "Sorry babe, I didn't mean to scare you."

Tara shudders at the thought of her nearly tragic mistake. "I almost killed you." She whispers as Jax slides his hands down to her ass. "You're taking this really well."

"We both know you're not a great shot. Even if you pulled the trigger, you might not have hit me." He teases and wraps one hand into her hair. He pulls her down to his lips and silences her reply.

His mouth is hot as it moves against hers and Tara finds herself pressing closer and grinding down on him with slow deliberate circles. Part of her knows she should stop. Knows he hasn't earned this. The protesting part of her grows softer with each passing moment, with every move of their bodies. Because it's Jax she's wrapped around, and she's loved him for so long, and she's missed him terribly the last few weeks as he became a stranger to her.

"God, I love you." Jax says against her mouth.

Tara helps Jax out of his cut and gets his hoodie and t-shirt off of him in one movement. She tries to reach between them to unbutton his jeans, but his hands squeeze her hips almost to the point of pain, and he won't let her move even an inch away from him.

"Not yet, babe." He sighs and peels her tank top off so he can kiss her breasts.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle… no teeth." Tara whispers against his hair. "They're so sore." Jax eases the pressure of his mouth and tosses her tank top down the hallway. Tara can feel herself smiling as she thinks about how some things never change. Jax has always liked to toss her clothing. Locating her bra later could sometimes be a challenge.

An image saunters into her head and kills her smile. There was a bra on his floor that morning at the clubhouse. A bustier really, Tara clarifies, and a pair of stripper heels mixed in with his clothes, and she'd known exactly what had happened and exactly what bitch was going to walk out of the bathroom.

No, no, no! They're home and safe and she's not going to torment herself about this!

She pulls away from him a little bit, trying to sort out the conflict in her head, and maybe Jax senses he's losing her because he goes for broke. He lays her down on the floor and trails soft sucking kisses down her body. He detours to her hip bones and when she arches against him, he eases between her legs.

Oh God, there's no sugar coating it, he slept with another woman. And whatever ridiculous shit he wants to spew about protection, it doesn't erase that he was inside Ima. Fucking Ima!

She can feel his breath hot and tickling against her belly and his arms are wrapping around her legs. Tara quakes as he bites her inner thigh. The bite isn't hard, it feels so good, but Tara feels tears form in her eyes even as she moans.

The last night they spent together, the night between their fight and their break up, they still slept in the same bed. It would have been easier if one of them had folded and headed for the couch, but she and Jax aren't known for making things easier on themselves. The silence and the space between them on the mattress took on weight and significance as they both lay there not sleeping and hugging the edges of the bed.

Tara thought about sliding over and spooning Jax. She wanted to find a way to fill the emptiness between them, but Tara was tired of hanging on, tired of clinging to somebody who kept kicking her in the face for all of her efforts. She didn't know how to make it better and she knew she couldn't take it if he laid there passively tolerating her touch, or worse if he removed her hands from his body. She couldn't take the rejection that night so she didn't reach out.

Tara's glad the hallway is dark so Jax can't see whatever expression she's wearing. He nibbles higher up her thigh, and when he presses his mouth to her, teasing her, his clever tongue seeking out her clit through the thin fabric of her yoga pants, pleasure and pain running on two completely different circuits, arc through her body in equal measures. Tara's hands slap down on his shoulders and find their way into his hair.

His fingers flirt at the waistband of her pajamas, dipping down underneath it to rub the soft skin of her hips. He presses harder, rolling his tongue exactly the way she likes it and for a moment pleasure is winning. Her fists form in his hair and she's not sure if she wants to tug him closer or rip him away from her. Jax starts to slide her pants down, his mouth following the edge of the falling fabric.

_Did he go down on Ima? _She wonders and the pain radiating out of her chest douses all of the pleasure.

"I can't." Tara bursts out and it sounds strangled even to her.

"You okay, babe?" Jax asks up the length of her body. She pushes his head away from her.

"Stop. I can't… I just can't." She admits and she feels Jax's weight lift off of her legs as he sits back on his heels.

"What's going on?" He asks. He sounds concerned and a little sad, but not overly surprised. Tara scrambles back from him, straightens her pants, and sits up.

"I'm sorry. I know I've only got you for a couple of days. And Abel's home and I love you and I want us to be happy. I'm trying to forget about it, and let shit go, but I keep seeing her in my head. And… I just… can't do this."

Jax bends his shadowy form down until his head is resting on the floor. He stays that way for a moment. "Okay," he mutters into the carpet. When he sits back up, Tara can see an outline of his hands covering his face. "Fuck…" He says and reaches to turn on the light.


	9. Chapter 9

_A.N.- Apologies in advance for the cliffhanger. The chapter has gotten too big and needs to be cut in two. I suck, I know. :) The POV flips back and forth between Jax and Tara in this chapter. Also, fair warning, I think J/T are capable of epic miscommunication, so this gets off to a bumpy start for them. The second half is sweet, I promise. Look for it on Monday._

_Again, big thank you to **Norrific** for the feedback and support._

* * *

JAX & TARA

The hallway light is like a hundred glinting little daggers stabbing into his eyes. Jax covers them and tries to adjust as he settles down onto the floor with his back against the wall. He squints at Tara and finds her sitting with her head hanging in her hands. He and the disappointed ache in his cock try not to get distracted by her missing tank top. He can't tell if it's the harsh glare pouring down on them making it hard for him to look at her, or if it's dread for the conversation they're about to have. He's suspicious it's a little bit of both. He knows they need to do this. They need to work it out, even if he _hates_ talking about this shit. He waits a moment for Tara to gather herself, but when he can't stand to wait any longer for the hammer hanging over them to fall, he reaches up and pulls it down on his own head.

"Come on, Tara. Say what you've got to say." He says softly.

Tara looks up at Jax. God, what does she want to say to him? She doesn't really have anything planned. There is no organized list of thoughts she can pummel him with. She just needed him to stop touching her. She needed for the images of Jax and that woman fucking to stop playing in her head.

Away from the heat of Jax's body, a chill sneaks through Tara and goose bumps rise on her arms. She feels very vulnerable and exposed without her shirt. She looks around for it and finds it down by the living room. Tara retrieves it, slips the tank top back on like it's a suit of armor, and immediately feels more in control.

"I don't know what to say. I don't know what you want from me." She starts. He looks at her, confusion wrinkling his brow.

"What do you mean you don't know what I want?" He asks and Tara's not sure her thoughts are collected enough to explain. Given everything that has happened, he's asked a really loaded question. She sits down opposite him and moves on to a different problem.

"Why her, Jax?" she asks and she watches as he looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head no, and licking his lips.

"I don't know. I'm so sorry about that."

"Sorry you slept with her, or sorry I caught you?"

"Both," he says and he rubs at the base of his neck as if there is a headache forming there.

"The door wasn't locked. You always lock the door." Tara can feel herself biting her lower lip. Down this line of questioning could be an answer she really doesn't want to hear. She hates that there are now all these things Ima knows about Jax; the rock of his hips, the smell of his sweat, the look on his face right before he cums. Did he bury his head in her neck and whisper to her? Tara shakes her head and tries to focus. She has to know if he was trying to set her up and underline their break up… or if he sought out comfort and solace from Ima, the way he always used to with her. "You wanted me to find you with Ima, didn't you?" Tara asks and her mouth burns around the bitch's name.

Jax feels the urge to squirm settle in his lower back. He was being such a dick that night. Trashed out of his mind it seemed like a good idea to go for a betrayal Tara couldn't brush aside, but in the morning when she'd walked in like he suspected she

might, and he could see exactly how deep he'd cut her, he wanted to take it all back. He wanted her out, but he didn't want to crush her.

"It wasn't like that Tara." He goes for a partial truth because he doesn't want to admit how calculated he got with her. "It didn't mean anything. She was there, and my head was a mess, and I just didn't want to think for awhile."

He expects this will ease her mind, how little Ima meant to him, but Tara recoils, her eyes welling and her mouth crumpling. Fuck, that's not what he wanted to see. He reaches out his hand to rub her foot. She jerks it out of his reach, her eyes flashing a brittle anger at him behind a layer of unshed tears.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be with you?" She asks suddenly, her voice soaked in bitterness.

"Tara, I'm sorry. She meant noth-" He starts, but Tara interrupts him.

"Do you realize I'm invisible to the men in this town? They won't even nod at me once they find out I'm with you." She gives a jaded shrug, her hands in the air. "And yet, women have been lining up to suck your cock since we were teenagers." She snorts and shakes her head. "And after you patched in, it's like they were gagging for it."

It's subtle, but Tara can see the shift of Jax's thoughts in his eyes. He likes what she just said. The corners of his mouth sneak up before he covers it with his fist. Oh, hell no. She wasn't trying to stroke his ego. Tara can feel a tingle starting in the palm of her hand. She wants to reach out and slap the pleased little smile off of his face. She rubs her palm against her knee and tries to subdue the urge to lash out.

"Has anybody ever cheated on you before Jax?" Tara asks.

"No, not that I know of," He answers immediately, but his eyebrows shoot up and Tara watches as he considers her question longer. "Wendy might have -we had some dark times- but if she did, she kept it real quiet."

Tara feels like she's on to something. "But you slept around on her, all the time, didn't you?" Jax neither nods nor shakes his head, but guilt flashes across his face and Tara has her answer.

"I'm not going to live like that Jax. I won't look the other way. I can't…" Tara's voice cracks so badly the rest of her sentence dies on her lips and it pisses her off. Damn it, she wants to sound strong, wants to throw down ultimatums with steely authority, but her emotions are right there screaming under the surface of her skin, and her backbone feels as delicate as the stem of a wine glass. Like it could be snapped or crushed under the slightest pressure. Jax looks at his feet and won't meet her eyes.

"I know. I don't expect you to look the other way. It won't happen again." He says and Tara can hear his regrets. The remorse in his voice wraps around her trembling spine and gives it a squeeze, but Tara doesn't break. She sits up straighter. She feels her eyes narrow as she looks at Jax. He's so good at playing people, and he certainly knows what tune to play in her ear to get what he wants. She finds herself measuring the sincerity of his words and they weigh in a little light. They're not enough to satisfy her.

"I don't believe you. You're sorry now, but this is you Jax. This is how you are. What could you say that would make me-"

"You're just gonna have to trust me." Jax interrupts and he can hear the impatient snap in his voice. He knows he's wronged her, and he has to answer for that, but this conversation, these apologies, have been running through his head for days now. He's been living in this guilt and all he's wanted to do was fix things between them, and he's been apologizing since the moment he climbed into the ambulance, but she's not accepting any of it. And he almost can't believe all she wants to talk about is pussy when there are so many more important things that have happened. Like the trail of bodies floating in their wake.

Tara's mouth falls open and she looks incredulous for a moment before she scrambles to her feet and strides away from him.

"Where are you going?" Jax knocks his head back against the wall before getting up to follow her into the living room. He finds her pacing in front of the fireplace.

"So should I trust you, the way you trusted me?" Tara asks. "Should I decide where you need to be, how you need to act, how you need to feel? Should I order you out of town and then order you to stay where I put you?" Tara can feel the hysteria rising through her body, and she wants to scream at Jax, but Abel is sleeping in the next room. She pushes the climbing intensity down, compressing it, and the angrier she gets the quieter her voice comes out, until her words are hissing through her teeth. "_You_ stopped trusting _me_ Jax. You didn't trust me to take care of myself. You decided what you wanted for me -like I was a child- and when I didn't agree and fall in line, you shut me out."

Jax grits his teeth and shakes his head. Tara has the high ground when it comes to Ima, but she's charging into an area he knows for damn sure he's right about. She's not a club member and he needed her to stop acting like one. He needed her growing pile of felonies to stop for just a fucking second so he could get his head on straight and not have to worry about dragging her down with him.

"Well, if I start making shaky ass decisions like you were a few weeks ago, feel free to let me know."

"My shaky decisions? What?" Tara sputters. "You're incredible." She swears there's a red haze at the edge of her vision and a rushing static in her ears. "Either I'm with you as your partner, or I'm not. You don't get to lock me away for safekeeping. I'm not your fucking princess! Stop treating me like one!"

"Or what?" Jax asks her, a warning in his voice. "You gonna smash that on the floor?" Tara looks down and her hand is wrapped around a candle holder; some baroque monstrosity Gemma bought when she was trying to scrub the last traces of Wendy out of the house. Tara can feel the potential in her arms. She was going to throw it; either at the ground or right at his stupid face. She sets it down with a guilty flush.

"Why stop there Tara?" He taunts. "Smash the fucker. Tear some of the shelves down. Go break some of Abel's shit. You've done it before."

Tara reels back when he throws the trashing of the nursery at her, and she's aware for a fleeting moment as molten rage flows through her body, what it's covering with its fiery blanket is shame; her shame for breaking Abel's things.

"Fuck you, Jax." She spits and rushes past him. She needs some space. She goes for the bathroom, locking the door and squatting in front of the vanity while she takes deep breaths.

She will not throttle her boyfriend. She will not shatter the mirror with her fist. She will not rip the towel rod off of the wall and smash the fucking shower doors.

_This is not who she is anymore._ A knock interrupts her prayer for self control. Tara ignores it and keeps breathing.

"Tara, please let me in." Jax says through the door and his tone is softer, placating, like he's talking a jumper down from the ledge. It makes the blood rush hotter and faster in Tara's head.

"Go away," She says and she can hear the flinty zip of his lighter as he lights a cigarette.

"You know," he says around the smoke in his exhale, making the words sound almost casual. "If you're not a princess Tara, stop acting like one and come out here."

Smug bastard! Always has to have the last word. He's walking away from the bathroom door towards the kitchen and the creak of the cupboard door above the fridge lets her know Jax went right to the whiskey. Tara flops down on her butt and leans back against the vanity and tries to calm down.

* * *

_Get the hell out of Charming,_ her running shoes whisper through her head and Tara finds herself listening to their comforting pitter-patter. The closer she gets to the precipice, to making the decision to leave Jax for good, the more she thinks about the first time she left him, and she can pinpoint the very day she decided Jax and Charming couldn't be her future.

Jax's teenage enthusiasm for mischief was unending and Tara realized she liked the fall from the tightrope she walked between honor student and trouble maker. Rather than closing her eyes and holding tight, Tara wanted to put her hands over her head and enjoy the descent. But every falling person eventually finds rock bottom, and Tara hit hers the year after graduation. She had a shitty job, an even shittier car, and she was drifting.

If she was drifting that year, Jax was flying. Every day he grew more certain his future lay in the family business. He was secretive about his time spent away from her, and she believed him when he said he was wearing the giant knife on his belt because it belonged to his father, but when he began carrying a concealed handgun everywhere he went, she started holding his explanations up to a stronger light.

Jax was still in the garage when Tara pulled into the lot and headed to his dorm room to grab a quick shower after work. The room was destroyed and Tara found herself gathering up the stray clothes and beer bottles. The tattered American flag hanging over the bed on the angled ceiling was loose and falling from one of the corners. Tara stood on the bed and tried to secure the ends, but the flag wouldn't lay smooth. Tara felt the obvious bump in the cloth. It felt like a key. She pulled another corner of the flag down to get a better look. The key was sticking out of a lock in the ceiling and she could see the hinges and outline of a swinging door. Tara couldn't help herself, she turned the key, and feeling very much like Pandora, opened the hidden compartment and found the assault rifles.

Tara's not sure how long she stared in silent bewilderment at the guns. Could have been a minute or it could have been an hour. Self preservation did kick in and she closed the compartment. She secured the flag exactly how it had been before and got down from the bed. She was tossing the empty cigarette packs littering Jax's dresser and desk into a garbage bag when he walked in.

His teasing greeting faltered on his lips and Tara watched carefully as his eyes flicked up to the flag and then back to her. He came to her then, all roaming hands and persistent lips, promising her the orgasm of her life as soon as she got in the shower, but it didn't escape Tara that what he was really doing was backing her out of the bedroom. He left her in the shower to go find a condom, and he must have retrieved the key and fixed the flag while he was out there, because all four corners were secured and it lay smooth against the ceiling when Tara left the bathroom.

There was talk in the town about the reach of the Sons, and maybe it was her youth showing because Tara never examined why the club cared, or how they had the power to enforce their will. She liked the guys. Their booming humor was a potent antidote to the clutter and the quiet of her house. And Tara loved Gemma. She was hard and funny –somebody to still be careful around- but the depth of her warmth often startled Tara. Sometimes SAMCRO felt like family but she couldn't escape the knowledge contained in the hidden compartment. They may have worn a different uniform than the mob, but they were a criminal organization, and her beautiful Jax was signing up to be a gangster

Tara runs her hands through her hair. The guns scare her now more than ever, but they're not the deal breaker they were when she was a kid. It's always been there but recently Tara's learned to accept the… flexibility in her morality whenever it finds itself in conflict with her loyalty. She's the person who helps to hide the body. She doesn't call the cops.

What she and Jax have is different now too. It's not as sweet. It's darker, more intense, has suffered real betrayal, and has a solid weight to it. What hasn't changed is the unbreakable feel of their connection. She and Jax grew and changed, and tried to live separate lives, and still they locked back together with an almost audible click.

Tara wants to back away from the precipice, and tell her running shoes to shut up for once. She's not sure she would recover from running away from Jax and Gemma a second time, and she's positive she can't run away from Abel. But if she and Jax can't get through this night, if they can't mend what's broken, how are they going to build a real life together? She thinks it's possible, wants it to be possible, if only they could get out of their own damn way, and if only she could stop being so fucking angry with him.

* * *

The first couple swallows of whiskey burn as they go down and Jax welcomes the warmth. Let her stubborn ass work out whatever she needs to work out in the bathroom. He's not going to beg at the door like a puppy. He never begs, not when there's a gun to his head and not when his woman is pissed. He doesn't beg anyone for anything, not even Tara.

He certainly never begged when he was with Wendy. He walked away whenever it got this ugly and disappeared for a few days. Let them both cool off before he'd come home. And sometimes she would be there waiting for him with some take-out and a smile, no questions asked and no explanations needed. And sometimes he'd find her passed out on the floor, half dressed, her hair clumping into dirty dreads, and her used needles hiding in his carpet.

Wendy was fragile and Jax liked her fragility. He was attracted to her sweetness and he felt like he understood her demons. She wrapped herself around him, liked what he liked, played nice with his mother, well most of the time. She never looked beyond the club and the borders of Charming for anything, and Jax never worried if she would disappear on him.

He knows some of Wendy's drug problem was his fault. Not all of it, because she brought it with her into their marriage, but her relapses had a pattern to them. Jax could never tell if they were having problems because she was slipping, or if she was slipping because they were having problems. Either way, the end result was the same. He pulled her out of her gutter, cleaned her up, and took better care of her… for awhile. Jax knows he didn't do right by Wendy, was never faithful to her. Couldn't love her the way she needed, the way she deserved, and so he gave her passes on the mess she made of herself. And he handed over a huge one on the mess she made of Abel.

But Tara isn't Wendy and he can't let himself keep falling into those old habits. She doesn't need him the way Wendy did. He doesn't have to worry if Tara will hurt herself while she cools down in the bathroom and he definitely doesn't have to dismantle the lock on the goddamn door and haul her passed out ass out of the tub before she drowns. Tara protects her soft underbelly; she doesn't rip it open for everyone to see like Wendy did.

And if they're playing poker right now with her in the bathroom and him in the kitchen, he's in a really dangerous position. Tara's not afraid to be alone and she's not afraid to walk away. She has proven she can and will live without him. Jax knows he doesn't hold all of the cards with Tara like he did with Wendy. He's not sure exactly where her head is, what her hand looks like, and when the stakes are as high as they are this night, it'd be really fucking stupid to try and call her bluff. Somebody has to be willing to fold. And Jax figures since it's some of his finer douche bag moves that brought them to this impasse it might as well be him.

He can't be the kid who let Tara run out of his life, and can't stay the man who let his ex-wife pump poison into herself rather than deal with their problems. Shit has gotta change if it's going to work. Jax takes a couple more swallows of whiskey and gets up from the table.

_Jesus Christ, he's really going to beg at the fucking door. _


	10. Chapter 10

_A.N.-Okay, here is part two. These last two chapters have been done to death and I think I've read and loved every version available on this website. :D I sought out fan-fiction because I was searching for a satisfying resolution to the J/T season 3 storyline, but I stayed for the stories, so I need to throw some kudos and love to all of the authors who write in this fandom. This is a well-worn path. Hopefully it's still an interesting one._

_A.N.- (version 2.0) The website wouldn't let me upload on Monday and early Tuesday and my less than positive reaction to Jax's behavior in this week's episode got in the way of me posting it yesterday. *sorry ladies* __**Norrific**__, as usual, thanks woman._

* * *

JAX & TARA

The sound of Jax's footsteps jolt Tara out of her thoughts. Her whole body tenses as she waits. She's not sure she's ready to grind through round two with him but she's also not ready to forfeit the fight.

"Tara, please open the door," Jax says and all of the casual dismissal she heard in his voice a few minutes earlier has been replaced with an urgency she can feel tugging on her through the door.

"No Jax, I can't even look at you right now." She says with more vehemence than she actually feels.

"Please babe, let me in. Look, I know I hurt you and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for all of it. We can talk about it. Just please open the door."

"You wanna talk? I can hear you. Go ahead, talk." is all the answer Jax gets from Tara.

He puts both hands against the door and leans into it, trying to reign in his frustration. His fingers press into the wood, flexing and curling as if he could tear the door down. He wants to be with her. It's so hard to be stuck out here, unable to see her or touch her. And he knows he could fix it, if she'd just let him get close and hold her, let his body communicate the things he can't get his mouth to say.

Fuck, but that's part of the problem, isn't it? What she's doing to him now, cutting off his access, he spent weeks doing to her. Recognizing the behavior being tossed back at him, and knowing he deserves it, doesn't ease the frustration. It makes it worse because he knows exactly how off the rails his thinking got when he was trying to cut Tara out of his life.

He knocks his forehead lightly against the door and then rests it there. "I know what you're thinking about right now. Don't leave Tara. Don't leave Charming. I couldn't take it. Letting you walk might be the biggest mistake I ever made. I love you babe…"

_Please don't leave me, _he thinks so intently it makes the space between his eyebrows hurt, but he can't make the words come out_. _

Tara would be lying to herself if she said his pleas have no affect on her. His obvious desperation leeches the anger out of her body, until mostly what she feels is tired. She wants this to be over and fling aside any barriers, but he's not going to get in that easily. Too much has happened between them.

"You know I can bust the lock on this door." Jax says.

"I know you can. But you won't." Tara answers and makes sure her tone issues an unspoken warning. If he takes apart the door and comes in before he's invited, she's done.

"No, I won't." Jax sighs. She hears a rustle and a thump as he slides down and sits against the door. "Come on babe, please talk to me."

"I don't know how you do it, Jax. How you keep stuff separate in your head. It's like you decided you didn't want me anymore, put me in a box, stuck me on your highest shelf and then just… left me there." Tara likes that she can't see him process her words, feels safe to admit things she would normally hide. "I'm good at being alone. It's what I'm used to. It's comfortable, but it's not what I want. I can put up with a lot of things and I want to be here with you, but the betrayal with other women, the distance between us… I can't live with that Jax. I won't."

"It will never happen again. She was nothing but me trying to get through a hard night." He says and Tara takes that in, thinks he's probably telling the truth, and it does nothing to ease the ache he's caused her.

"Jax, we're not going to make it through another hard night. That will break us."

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm not looking for anything outside of this. I'm not my old man. I don't want some teenager on the side." Jax says and the conviction in his voice takes Tara by surprise. "What I want is a partner. I want you."

"I want to trust you, I do." Tara says and Jax hears her scooting and feels the light thump against his body as she moves and settles herself closer to him, back to back on opposite sides of the door. To Jax it feels like progress.

"But you don't right now. I get that." Jax says and she reminds him of a different problem they have to work out, and based on how shit jumped off earlier, he's worried she's not going to like it. He keeps his voice light as he wades cautiously into new waters. "If we're gonna work, you gotta trust me. And not just with women. You gotta trust me about the club, especially about the club. I know I wasn't talking to you or telling you shit about Abel or the Irish, and maybe if I had you wouldn't have run all over the west coast stacking up felonies. But you've been playing outlaw for less than a year. I have been doing this for half my life. If I say you need to steer clear of something because it's too dangerous, I need you to listen to me."

"So I should do what I'm told?" Tara asks, her voice and words so sharp, so pointed, they could almost slide between his ribs like a stiletto blade. Jax winces.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, but this isn't me trippin' some macho bullshit. I'm not talking about here in our house or with Abel. I'm talking about the club. I know you Tara. I know you're smart and loyal, but if Gemma needs her ass pulled out of the fire again, let SAMCRO handle it. It's not your job to fix her shit. It's mine."

Tara's not sure what to make of the turn in the conversation. She's been taking Gemma's lead on how to be an old lady, on what was expected of her. Somehow in all the talks she and Jax had about what he wanted for SAMCRO, they never really talked about this. "You don't want me involved with the club at all?"

"I'm not saying that. I don't want you taking risks. What's the point of you leaving Charming and throwing all that time and money into school, and doing all you've done, if you get busted? I don't ever want to see you do time. I don't ever want to see you lose your medical license… and I don't _ever_ want to see you hurt again. Not because of me."

"You can't keep me in the dark Jax. I have to know what's going on in your head. I can't live with all the secrets piling up around me. You have to tell me the truth."

"I got no problem with that."

"So your truth for my…" Tara searches for a word that won't leave a bad taste in her mouth. "…acquiescence?"

"About the club." Jax clarifies again.

"Right, about the club." Tara repeats. "I can do that." She says and Jax relaxes a fraction, easing into their new agreement.

"Why didn't you lock the door with Ima?" Tara asks and the sound Jax hears is the spring and snap of the conversational bear trap Tara just laid out before him.

"You really want the answer on this one?" Jax asks.

"Yes. I want the truth." She answers and Jax makes a mental note to watch his step better when striking deals with Tara.

"I left it unlocked so you would find me with her and run the fuck away from Charming." He answers her fast, in one breath, like ripping off a Band-Aid. He is greeted with complete silence. "Tara?"

He hears her take a deep shuddering breath and the relief flowing through her voice steals some of the sting of her words. "God Jax, you're such a dick sometimes." She says, echoing back to him his earlier thoughts on the matter.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"We could've skipped all of this if you'd just talked to me after Abel was taken."

"I tried talking to you. You weren't listening to me."

"Well you weren't making any sense!" Tara says and Jax can tell they'll be circling the drain all night on this particular point, unless one of them is willing to cede.

"Peace, Tara. I'm sorry for how I was to you." Jax says, but he's been throwing apologies at her all day, and Tara's swatted every one of them away. He tries a different approach, one that flashes a little of his own underbelly, and hopes maybe she'll hear him.

"I thought Abel was dead Tara. Thought Cameron drowned him. And I couldn't move." Jax turns his head towards the crack in the door, hoping his words will go straight from his mouth and into her ear. "I never blamed you. I think you did what you could in a bad situation. But I felt like I was forcing something on you with my life. This is my club and my nightmare. And I didn't think you belonged in it. Even after I got proof that Abel was alive, I couldn't shake the feeling that you being with me was flinging you towards some real tragic fucking future. I don't know Tara, it's not an excuse, but there's the reason." Jax pauses and his hand reaches up to lightly twist the locked door handle back and forth.

"Whatever the reason, you didn't deserve it babe. And no matter how fucked up I was, the way I treated you was still wrong… I was wrong."

It's exactly what Tara wants to hear, no justifications and no excuses. Jax is a proud man. She wonders what it cost him to admit he was wrong. And he can brush it aside now, but he was lost after Abel was taken. Whether it be the booze or the grief, Jax couldn't walk, couldn't pull himself up off of the ground when the club came looking for him. Opie picked him up and carried him into the shower, like a child, like an invalid, like a person who had lost their reason to live. Tara couldn't watch; had to walk away before she joined Jax in his heap on the floor.

What must it have cost Jax to be so vulnerable in front of his brothers? Had she lost sight of how very broken he was as she raged at him tonight? Did she forget? Now that she has his admission of guilt, does she really need it?

"Tara, please let me in."

The lock clicks and to Jax it feels like victory. He scrambles to his feet, ready to crowd into the bathroom with her and scoop her up, but the look Tara flashes in his direction stops him from touching her. She's still working something out in her head. She walks past him and he follows her into the living room.

"What's changed Jax?" She asks putting her the palms of her hands over her face and when she pulls them down again Jax can see deep exhaustion in her eyes. "You were right. I did need protecting. Salazar came gunning for me, because of you. All the shit you were worried would happen, happened. So why am I here? Why haven't you put me on the first bus out of town?" Tara sinks onto the couch. "Jesus, is all of this just because of the baby?"

_YES!_

The word echoes through Jax's head but he keeps his mouth shut. It's not the answer she wants, and if Jax doesn't explain himself carefully, she'll get the wrong idea. He paces the room and presses his palms together against the bridge of his nose while he thinks. He looks up into the air, searching for the right words. He doesn't know how to tell her what he's feeling without sounding like a complete pussy. Tara's too logical for what's spinning in his head.

How does he tell her he felt trapped –strangled even- when he found out Wendy was pregnant? Felt his entire future was narrowing down to one full of resignation and bitterness. He and Wendy were a bad fit. Even if Tara had never come home, it wouldn't have worked for them, not in the long term. And the one eye he kept trained on the horizon -watching and waiting- was never going to be good for Wendy, or fair to her. And it would have eventually driven them both crazy. It's why he bailed.

Finding out Tara was pregnant was different. It took a moment for Jax to hear his mother's words through the fog in his head, and it took a moment longer for the implications to really settle in. Tara was pregnant, even though they were so careful, and at a time when he was trying like hell to cut his ties with her and his son. It felt like a sign, like a big fucking neon billboard. Jax believes in signs, believes things happen for a reason. Like the universe was trying to snap his head back on straight and was giving him permission to love who he wanted. That all the self-sacrificing he was doing was bullshit because he was supposed to have this family. Jax again saw his life following just one road, but instead of feeling boxed in, he felt… set free.

Jax cringes. There's got to be a better way to put that. Fuck… He's going to sound like the biggest pussy. Jax shakes his head and goes for it.

"Not everybody gets a second chance to have what we got." He kneels in front of her and pushes her hair out of her face so he can see her eyes.

"A lot of fucked up things have been thrown our way, there's a lot of bad in our world, but this… us… this is the good stuff. We gotta hold on to it. You were right babe, you belong here with me. We're supposed to be together. And as far as the club goes, I had this so completely backwards. It's not about hiding you and Abel away from it. Keeping business from bleeding on us, is about SAMCRO being careful. We go at them smart and fucking ruthless, and that's what keeps our family safe."

Tara lifts her hands and fingers play in his beard. "I love you so much but I don't want to do this Jax if it's always going to be back and forth. I don't want us to be vague anymore, and I'm so tired of being cautious." She says.

"This is what I want Tara. It's everything I've always wanted. In the back of my head, I've been thinking about you being with me and having my babies for over ten years. I don't want to be anywhere else. I don't want to be with anyone else."

His words get cut off as Tara's mouth slams into his with a passion that feels close to desperation. Her legs wrap around his still kneeling body, pulling him in closer to her. He's lost in the silkiness of her thighs, the push of her breasts against his chest and the familiar scent of her shampoo. And there is no place on Earth he'd rather be.

Tara breaks the kiss. "What about Abel?" She asks softly in his ear.

"What about him?"

Tara pulls back and he can see on her face that she's looking to straighten out at least one more knot in the ties between them. "I know Abel isn't mine. I know he's yours, I do." Her hands leave his shoulders to gesture in front of her, as if she is searching for the right combination of words. "But the way I think about him, the way I feel about him... He feels like he's mine. I love him like he's my baby."

"I know you do-"Jax starts, but Tara holds up her hand and keeps talking.

"I want him Jax. Whatever happens with the charges, no matter how long you're gone, I want him. Not just because I think Wendy couldn't handle him long term –though God I have this image of him locked in his bedroom screaming while she's shooting crank." Tara shudders. "She would try Jax, but I don't think she's ready to be a full-time mom." Jax finds himself nodding. Wendy couldn't handle caring for Abel, not every day. "But it's not just about her history. I want him because I can't picture not having him here with me. And I know I have no rights to him."

Tara's eyebrows draw together and he watches as pain casts its shadow across her face. "And with what happened with Cameron, I'm sorry I couldn't do more to protect him."

"Tara, stop." Jax tries, but she charges over his words again. Jax lets her. She clearly needs to get this shit said.

"It will _never_ happen again. I will blow big holes in any person who tries to hurt him." Tara promises.

Jax isn't sure if this new hardness in Tara is a reaction to the last few weeks or if it's going to stick with her. He's honestly not sure how he feels about it, but at the moment it amuses him. He snorts and a smile cautiously spreads across his face.

"You know, I think I got that." He says jerking his head towards their bedroom where the gun she almost used to blow big holes in him lay on his dresser. It earns him the smallest of smiles from Tara before her eyes dart away and her face sobers, the pain creeping back in slowly.

"Hey babe, look at me," he says and he waits as she lifts her eyes to his. After a conversation -a negotiation really- about trust, Jax is surprised he has to say this. His hands squeeze her hips, giving emphasis to his words. "I trust you with Abel. You know that, right?" Like earlier in the hallway, Tara's eyes well but this time a wide smile breaks through her crumpling mouth. He gathers her to him and buries his face in her hair.

"Thank you," she whispers into his neck before she lays a kiss there.

Jax assumed she would take care of Abel while he was inside, had sort of counted on it. But he can't even begin to express to Tara what it means to him for her to claim Abel at a moment when his own future is so precariously balanced. She doesn't accept Abel because he's a package deal with Jax. Tara wants him because she loves him, and worries about him, doesn't want to be without him, and would kill to protect him, and a weight Jax didn't even know he was carrying, lifts off of his back.

"I know how much you love him. Abel should be with you. I want you to have him." Jax says and pulls back so he can press his forehead to hers. "We'll figure it out."

"Promise?" Tara asks.

"Promise." Jax answers and kisses her gently. As he relaxes, every ache, every bruise, every stitched slice he's accumulated in the past week begins to protest while exhaustion presses on his eyelids. He wants his bed. Wants Tara and Abel wrapped up in is arms. Wants his family close for this small piece of time he has with them. Wants Tara to really understand he's serious about respecting her claim on Abel.

"I love you so much," he murmurs into her ear.

Tara kisses his shoulder and hugs him tighter. "I love you too, baby."

"We okay?" He asks her and he can hear a small laugh in her voice when she answers.

"Yeah, we're okay."

"I'm so tired. We should go to bed." Jax says and he thinks his next sentence before he says it. It sounds funny in his head, and he worries it will sound funny coming out of his mouth. But he means it, feels it's true, and also feels down to his bones that it will stay true forever. It's just awkward to say because it's new. It's been coming for awhile, but it's a shift in his entire way of thinking. It's not about denying Wendy anything because that door will always be open. It's about him learning to share and it's something Tara needs to know.

"Come on, Tara." He stands and reaches out his hands to help her to her feet. "I wanna go lay down and be with our son."


	11. Chapter 11

_A.N- It's been less than a week. High fives all around! :D Actually no, I had this one already written, I just needed to edit it. Anyway, let me know what you think. You guys are great! _

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JAX

Jax's nose explodes and his vision washes white as his face hits the concrete floor. His hands and feet are bound. His stomach is slippery and growing wetter by the moment. O'Neill flips him over and Jax can see it's blood pouring out of his stomach. Strangely it doesn't hurt, not nearly as much as his nose does, and Jax thinks maybe that's a bad sign. O'Neill is bloody up to his elbows as if he's been digging inside somebody's chest cavity and he laughs as he waves Jax's own knife at him.

_"Are you missing something Jackson?"_ O'Neill asks. Jax is sure it wasn't there a second ago, but he can now see something dark and pulsing in O'Neill's other hand. _"Where would Prince Charming be without his heart?"_ Jax looks down, expecting to see a gaping hole where his heart used to be. To his relief his chest remains untouched. It's his belly, the skin torn and tattered, doing all of the bleeding. "_Do you know how long I had to look for this?_" He asks, holding up the still beating heart. He drops it to the ground, where it sticks with a wet sucking sound, and hovers one boot heel over it. Jax meets his eyes but he won't give O'Neill the satisfaction of an answer. _"Am I boring you Jackson?"_ O'Neill asks, his head cocking with curiosity. "_Just as well_," he says with a shrug and brings his foot down, grinding the heel until the heart bulges and then bursts like a viscous water balloon.

_"Who's next?" _O'Neill hollers behind him and Kyle Hobart walks shirtless out of the darkness carrying a lighter. Kyle lifts Jax up and secures his bound hands to a hook hanging from the ceiling. He flips the lighter open and lights it. He holds the flame to Jax's chin and Jax can smell the burning hair before the heat reaches his face.

_"You know Jax, you should try a clean shave like me. Nothing beats having smooth skin."_ Kyle rubs his own jaw line and neck. He leaves behind rippled and knotted scars wherever his hand touches and they seem to spread before Jax's eyes. The scars expand up to his hairline and creep down until they meet up and fuse with the ruined flesh on Kyle's back. His face twists into a distorted grin.

_"What's the matter? Don't like my new look?"_ Kyle taunts and Jax can feel the heat now scorching his face. He struggles and tries to get himself off the hook. He flips his legs up and kicks Kyle in the chest knocking him to the ground, but it is too late. The fire is catching, moving to other places on his body, and he's going to burn. Jax opens his mouth but he won't let any sound come out. His last thought as the flames engulf him is they will never hear him scream.

Jax's eyes snap open as he bursts into consciousness, startled by his own surroundings. The dream has receded but his face is still on fire. Abel's awake, his eyes shining, and he has two gleeful tugging fists knotted in Jax's beard. When he sees Jax is awake, he screeches with laughter and pulls harder. Tara stirs next to them.

"Ahh… Abel, seriously?" He groans and gently works his one arm out from under Tara. He wraps his hands around his son's wrists, and using his thumbs he eases Abel's little fingers open. Abel gurgles and pops one of Jax's knuckles into his mouth and gnaws on it. Jax can feel the start of the teeth Tara was talking about.

Earlier, when he and Tara had fallen into bed, snuggled Abel between them, tangled their legs together and whispered to each other over his little head until they both drifted to sleep, this had seemed like a such a good idea. Now, with his beard burning and his nose throbbing from what he suspects was a baby head-butt, he remembers why they rarely put Abel in bed with them. Not that Jax has ever slept easy, but the dreams have gotten more intense since Ireland. Kyle popping up was new. Jax has never missed a minute of sleep over taking back Kyle's tats. But that, he thinks with a snort, was probably Abel's abuse on his face invading his dreams. Jax sits up with the baby and tries to get out of bed without further waking Tara, but her arm slips out of the covers and her hand rubs down his back.

"Where you going?" She mumbles into her pillow. Her arm collapses back on the bed but her fingers play at the waist of his boxers.

"Kid's up. Gonna get him something to eat."

"-kay." Tara says. She wraps her hand around the waistband of his shorts and pulls lightly. "Miss you while you're gone. Come back soon."

"Always," Jax says and leans over to kiss her head. Abel reaches for Tara and Jax scrambles to keep the kid's questing hands from tangling in her hair. "No you don't little man." Jax holds Abel up in the air over his head and jiggles him around until he laughs. He dodges a falling line of drool and blows on Abel's belly earning another peal of giggles. He can hear Tara laughing into her pillow as her hand absently rubs his hip.

He knows he probably shouldn't do this. Rile the kid up too much and he'll never go back to sleep, but Jax can't seem to resist tonight. They bop into the nursery for a quick diaper change and head into the kitchen. He puts Abel in the high chair, washes his hands, and side steps Sack's blood stain on the floor on his way to the cupboard. He digs around until he finds a jar of pears; Abel's favorite. He doesn't normally give Abel solid food at night, and Gemma would have something to say if she could see them now, but he's aware for a moment Abel will be feeding himself by the time he's out of prison. This is one of his last chances. Before that heaviness can settle in his gut, Jax shakes it off -he has to shake it off- and he finds the spoon shaped like a blue airplane.

Jax makes all the right noises, flies the spoon in loops, and gets Abel so excited he's squealing and banging the tray of his chair with his pumping arms between every bite. Jax is going to miss this; his late nights with his son. He knows the women in his life handle a lot of Abel's daily care, which is why he tries to make sure to be the one to get up with Abel in the middle of the night. This was their time.

Abel is done when he starts spitting the food into his hands and examining it, rather than eating it. Jax closes the lid on the jar and puts it in the fridge. He turns back around and Abel has worked those pear covered hands into his own hair and there is a war paint like smear across his forehead. Abel grins and the last mouthful of pears slides down his chin and drips onto his bib. Jax smiles and sighs, and goes for a washcloth. It's not as bad as it used to be, he thinks as he wipes Abel down. Before he got a handle on the solid food thing, the kid would get so messy, Jax used to plop him into the sink and hose him off after every meal. It never stopped being amusing to Tara.

"But we got the hang of this, didn't we son?" Jax says as he lifts Abel out of his chair and bounces him gently while walking around the kitchen. Abel yawns and his fingers sneak up to play with the ends of Jax's hair.

Five minutes later and Abel has crashed. His eyelids have gone from drooping to closed and the little hand twisting in Jax's hair has gone still. Jax is sitting at the table, holding Abel in one arm and contemplating his open notebook. There are a couple of letters that need writing, but he can't bear to put his son down. He shifts Abel over to his left shoulder and holds him tightly, right over the spot where his name is inked. Abel moves, cuddling in closer, his tiny nails scratching against Jax's neck.

The letter for Gemma is easy. It almost writes itself. Tara's is harder. There's more to say, more to explain, and his palm sweats around the pen he's holding.

_Hey Babe,_

_You're probably freaking out right now, but if you're reading this, it means we did what needed to be done and Jimmy and Stahl are dead. I don't know exactly how it's going to go down, what it's going to look like, but I'm not a rat. The club isn't going to hurt me. I made a deal with Stahl, but Clay and the guys were in on it from the beginning. We're cleaning up the mess Stahl made. Gemma's going to get a slap on the wrist for those murders. The charges we're facing could have kept us locked up for close to fifteen years, but this way we should be out in less than two. I know that's a long time, but it's better than the alternative. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more. You couldn't be an accessory. We've already dragged you into too many things._

Abel squirms and rubs his face. Jax adjusts him into a more comfortable position and makes shushing noises until he settles back down. It's amazing to Jax how somebody so small could so completely alter his existence. How a kid he didn't want, or know how to care for, became the most important person in his life.

How did his dad do it? How did he leave Jax and Thomas for such long stretches, especially with Thomas growing weaker with each passing year? And once Trinity was born, how did he leave her back in Ireland? Jax knows he never visited after Thomas died. That's almost four years he went without seeing Trinity. Jax knows now he could never do that with his children. He needs them under his roof and in his arms. Not tossed, like Trinity was, into the wind.

It's strange to think about himself again in the role of big brother. Thomas has been gone for so many years. What would Thomas be like as a man? Would he be in the club? Nah… Thomas was too solemn, too sweet to make it as a biker. Would he have taken his big brain and his bad heart to college? Jax can't picture it. He has aged, grown up, but Thomas is still hip high in his mind.

In the rare moments when Jax let's himself walk through his memories, faded and yellowed with time, Thomas' face is obscured and out of focus. He would never admit this to his mom, but the face Jax remembers is the one staring out of the photos hanging in Gemma's house; they're frozen snapshots. He can no longer remember Thomas in motion.

Maybe John thought Trinity would have a better life without his influence. Yeah, that sounds like his dad; the broken idealist wallowing in his own fucking guilt. Jax knows something about that kind of guilt, and he's decided it's useless. His sons are going to know each other and know their parents. They're not going to discover their own truths when they're grown. Jax looks down at his half finished letter. He still has so much he wants to tell her.

_I meant what I said about Abel. I want him to be with you. Everything is piling on us right now, but when we have a minute to breathe, I'll have Rosen or Lowen get in touch with Wendy. I don't think she'll fight me on the custody issue. She loves him but she knows she's bad news for Abel, or she would've knocked on our door looking to see him in the last few months. Abel has a right to know her and know who she is, but he doesn't deserve to be raised by her. That you want him with you while I'm gone means so much to me. _

_We've walked a strange path to get to this point. I have loved you for half of my life, and things are going to get stranger and harder in the next year or so, but I promise we'll get through it, just like we always do._

_Love,_

_Jax _

The letters are written, Abel is completely knocked out, and Jax has one less thing on his very crowded plate. He gets up carefully and carries Abel towards the bedrooms. Jax thinks about laying him down next to Tara, rubs his beard and thinks better of it, and detours into the nursery. Abel barely stirs as Jax kisses him and puts him in his crib. Jax covers him up and goes back out into the kitchen to find envelopes for the letters.

He fumbles the pen, dropping it on the floor. He stoops to pick it up and is confronted with the blood stain he's been trying to ignore; Sack's blood stain. He knows Tara tried to scrub it away, but her experience with clean up is more limited than his. She doesn't know he has the right solvents to pull blood off this floor out in the garage.

An image of Tara, hugely pregnant and pushing the mower across his backyard slips into his head. There's so much he hasn't had time to think about, dangling threads so minor in the scheme of things, tickling his skin right now. And it's not just his lawn, the one at her dad's house needs to be mowed too. There's the new garbage disposal that's been sitting in his garage for the last month because more important shit has been going on. Who's going to put that in? Who's going to make sure the cutlass' oil gets changed on time, because Tara always forgets, and he knows she can't skip that shit on a car that old? Fuck, she's going to need so much help. Not for the first time, Jax is glad his two closest friends will be on the outside while he's in jail.

Jax looks back down at the stain and thinks about Sack, about this kid, his brother, a prospect, a soldier who risked everything to protect Abel. He knows he'll never be able to pay the debt he owes Sack. Jax will have to find a way to honor him that goes beyond officially patching him into the club, but his blood stain has to go. Jax can't have this hanging like an anchor around Tara's neck. He really should have one of the prospects come over and take care of it for her. He looks at the clock. Or he could do it himself. Maybe he won't be able to get all of it up tonight, but it won't take that long to try.

Jax puts his palms flat on the stain, and though his idea of God is confused and vague at best, he says a prayer for Half-Sack and sends him his silent and everlasting thanks. Then he grabs the thick rubber gloves he keeps under his sink and gets to work.


	12. Chapter 12

_A.N. - I've been missing for a good long while now, as in over six months. *sorry* Life and a few medical emergencies did get in the way, but more than that I had huge problems with Jax in season 4. I had to get over that. And this is fanfic anyway, so if I have to pretend the "real Jax Teller" is the one that cruised through season 2, to get this fic finished, then that's what I have to do. Hopefully there are readers out there who are still interested in this "Season 3 fix" fic. I know it's not exactly new territoy. _

_It's so dumb it's taken me this long to update because I've had the outline and various scenes for the end of this story done for like a year, and yet every time I opened the word document, I was banging my head on the keyboard. __I had to cut this chapter in half. The back half is the morning and it needs a little more polish. *sorry* Look for it in about a week. _

_As usual, thanks to **Norrific** for always being a good sounding board and giving me great feedback, even if what I'm sending you is a couple of jumbled paragraphs and an outline. And also, thanks to the readers who reviewed the story months after I last posted. That really got me on track with finishing the story, rather than letting it languish. My plan is to respond to all of the reviews I get from now on. You know, I didn't even realize that was an option for the longest time._

* * *

JAX

Sack's blood stain is gone, or at least mostly scrubbed away. Jax puts the solvents back in the garage, and despite wearing the rubber gloves, he washes all the way up to his elbows. Jax's neck and shoulders protest and ache as he moves, but it feels good too, like a job well done. If he knows his girl, Tara will bleach it again, or replace the flooring, but for now it's good enough. She'll have to press her nose against the tile to find any remnants.

He looks at the clock. He has a few more hours until Abel usually wakes up and a couple more after that before they need to be at the clubhouse for Gemma's breakfast. Not enough time. Not enough time at all. He rubs at the grit blurring his sight and stretches his back. Scrubbing the floor helped him focus in a way. It cleared his mind and allowed him to separate and laser in on the many obstacles in his path, running contingencies for tomorrow, planning for the future, and tucking a couple of small, painful, things away to look at later. A piece of him itches to talk to Clay and go over the plan again, because Lenny's connection to Putlova is so tenuous. Another piece of him wants to forget the critical importance of the next 24 hours. That piece of him wants to suck on the tender skin behind Tara's knees, and then fall into his bed and sleep for a thousand years.

Jax hit the lights and walks into the bedroom. Tara is curled up on her side in a puddle of moonlight. Her legs are pulled tight against her body, her pillow hugged close, and nothing about her looks peaceful or at rest. He ditches his boxers, lifts the sheet and slips into bed behind her. She always wakes a little bit when he moves around, pressing in closer and mumbling sleepily before drifting back off, but this time she startles and whips around, her hands coming up as if to fend him off.

"Oh… " She sighs, as she wakes fully and recognizes him, her body relaxing. Tara scoots towards him and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, bad dream," She says by way of explanation.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jax asks her, pulling her against his side. He feels her shake her head against his shoulder as she slips one of her legs between his and gets comfortable.

"It's nothing," she says brushing his question aside.

"Tell me," He insists gently, seeking out her hand, holding it in his own and running his thumb across the tips of her short fingernails.

"Okay," she relents. "Abel was missing and I was on a pier and I was tied to one of those wooden posts. And the tide was coming in and it was washing up over the pier." Tara pauses for a second and takes a shaky breath. "And I don't how, but I knew the water was going to creep in and slowly cover my head."

He gives her hand a squeeze. Jax knows Tara's a strong chick. He wouldn't love her so much if she wasn't, but she really is spooked. He doesn't need Freud's help to interpret her nightmare, and he's going to have to leave her alone for awhile like this, to deal with the aftermath.

"You okay?" He asks and she nods her head. "You gonna stay okay, with me gone for awhile?" He feels her nod again but she presses even closer to him, and her voice is anxious when she speaks.

"I've been trying not to think too hard about it." Tara whispers. "How long do you think you'll serve?"

Jax tries to answer as honestly as possible. "Don't know for sure, but it won't be a long bid. They don't have as much on us as they think."

Tara steals her hand back from him and her fingers play lightly on his ribs, tapping and tracing lines as she digests the information. "But what are we going to do about Gemma? She's not looking at a short bid." She says and Jax stops breathing for a second. He was hoping Tara wouldn't connect those dots until after it was already done.

"_We're_ not going to do anything." He reminds her. "You gotta let me handle Gemma's shit. I don't want you mixed up in it."

"Your bail hearing is the day after tomorrow. She's a fugitive. How can you handle that from the inside?"

"You gotta trust me. I'm taking care of my mother."

"But how?" Tara asks and Jax doesn't answer. He's a good liar and he knows it, but his heart isn't in it. He hopes silence will serve him better than lying, but Tara is a quick study, and he feels her pull away from him a little bit, and knows she's trying to read his face in the dark.

"What's going on tomorrow? Is there more to it than going after Jimmy? She asks and Jax clenches his jaw to stop himself from answering. Keeping Gemma, and now Tara, off the scent of this plan has been way fucking harder than it should be. "I'm right, aren't I? Come on Jax, you promised to tell me the truth."

Jax lets out a big sigh. "I can't tell you this. Not yet. The club's taking out Jimmy and I'm gonna make sure my mother never serves real time. I'm sorry babe, that's all I can tell you."

Tara leans up on her elbow to look down at him, her eyes catching the moonlight and gleaming with curiosity. "How long have you been planning this thing you can't tell me about?"

"Awhile," Jax answers automatically and is annoyed she got that much out of him.

"Jesus, when did you have the time?" Tara asks. "I have no idea how you do it, how you store all of this stuff." She moves the hair off of his face and brushes her knuckles over his forehead and temple. "How many compartments do you have in here?"

"Enough," he answers and smiles. Tara lies back down, gets comfortable, and runs her lips along his jaw line, making her way to his earlobe.

"And it's all happening tomorrow?" She murmurs into his ear.

"Tara, you have to trust me. I can't tell you about this." Jax says. He can hear a note of tired pleading in his voice as he tries to keep this last secret from her. Maybe she can hear it too, because she sighs, and brings her fingers up to play in the scruff under his chin, and she lets it go.

"Did Abel go down for you okay?" She asks, changing the subject.

"He's always good for me." Jax says and can't stop the pleased smile spreading across his face. He's proud Abel reaches out for him, that he lights up when Jax walks into the room, and it mean something to Jax that Abel wants him above anyone else.

"Yeah, he is." Tara agrees and a warm silence falls between them.

Abel's always been an easy kid. Jax hopes he'll stay easy, so Tara doesn't have to wrestle a screaming toddler while trying to feed the new baby. She's going to run out of hands and he won't be there to catch what falls. He won't be there to see what happens.

He won't be the one his kids reach out for.

Jax again feels like he's been kicked in the chest. He's been trying to shake this off, or tuck it away, all night. He can do the years. He's done them before, but he didn't have kids then. Of all the compartments Tara claims Jax has in his head for storing the bad shit, this one has rumbled and strained the loudest against its padlock. No matter where he shoves it or how far he throws it, it boomerangs back to the front of his mind. And at this point, he's too God damned tired to fight it.

"Fuck… I'm going to miss so much." Jax blows his breath out and feels his face crumpling. He brings the heel of his hand up to rub furiously at his wet eyes. "All of that early shit."

"Hey, baby it's going to be okay," Tara says. She strokes his hair and kisses his shoulder. His arm around her waist tightens even as he turns his head, hiding his eyes from her.

"No. It's not." Jax curls down until his head rests on Tara's belly. "They won't know me when I get out. I won't know them." He mutters and then he gives in to the urge to burrow into Tara and mourn his losses.

TARA

Tara folds and wraps herself around Jax, stroking his back and pressing her lips to every place her mouth can reach. She was wondering when this would hit him; this terrible aspect of his looming jail sentence and what it means for their very young family. Tara gives him a few moments to grieve before she tries to tug him back up towards her, and when he doesn't budge, she scoots down until they are face to face again. She pushes his hair back and kisses his brow and then does the same to both cheeks.

"Jax… Jax, baby you can't think about that right now." She whispers. Tara loves this part of Jax, the tender spots only she and Abel get to really see, but now is not the time to be soft or lost. Tara doesn't know what the club is doing tomorrow, but she's got a feeling soft will get him killed. She needs him strong and focused so he can come home to her. "We're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. We'll be up there visiting every week. They'll know you."

"Yeah… okay." Jax says, pulling away from her. Tara thinks he might need a little distance to collect himself. She gives him the space. He rolls onto his back and scrubs at his eyes again. When his breath calms down to occasional hitches, he rolls towards her and curls back down into her lap.

"Take lots of pictures, okay?" Jax says and he sounds like himself again.

"Of course." Tara assures him. She runs her hands along the smooth muscles of his torso, trying to commit every detail to memory. Her fingers seek out and trace the slightly raised edges of the ink on his back. She loves that she can feel a difference in the texture of his skin. Loves that she can feel the scar tissue under the design Jax has worked his entire life earning the right to wear on his body.

Skin is so fragile, Tara thinks. It will split like warm butter under the pressure of her scalpel, or a swinging slice from a piece of broken mirror. And sometimes it can't be repaired. Sometimes the damage is too great. Jax is smart and skilled, and has quick reflexes she envies, and Tara trusts him to take care of himself, and take care of her. There was no doubt in her mind that Jax would end Salazar when he walked unarmed through the door. But in still moments like this, it frightens her to realize he's not ten feet tall and made of iron. His body, his skin, is as fragile as everybody else's. One bullet, one blade, one bike spill could be the end of him, and Tara doesn't want to know what the world would look like without Jax in it.

"You got quiet." Jax murmurs against her stomach and it startles Tara out of her thoughts. "What are you thinking about?" He asks.

Jax has enough to deal with. Tara knows it's easier to split skin open and let the blood flow out, than it is to heal and knit the wounds back together. Even the ones the eye can't see, and maybe they've both spent a little too much time bleeding today. She already told him about her dream and she doesn't want to burden him any further with the dark path her mind is traveling. She needs to find a compartment of her own where she can shove all this stuff.

"Tell me about it. It's gotta be better than what's playing in my head." Jax prods, and Tara truly doubts that, but then he lays kisses along her rib cage and squeezes her tighter. "Distract me, babe."

"I was thinking about how much I'm going to miss you." Tara bluffs. It's not exactly a lie. She is going to miss this, miss him, so much. So many tiny things taken for granted: his smile, the dimples in his lower back, his callused hands, his shoulder blades under her nails, and how sweet his eyes are when she's an inch away from them.

"Oh yeah?" Jax asks and she can hear a smile in his voice.

"Yeah," Tara says. She tries to run her hands through his hair, but her fingers get caught in all of the tiny snarls. She feels further, finding the start of a dread behind one ear. She's never understood how his hair tangles so easily. It's all ripples and horns, and she knows if she hit the lights, it would be seriously defying every known law of gravity and physics. A laugh, the likes of which she hasn't felt in a month, skips up from her belly and escapes before she can reel it in.

"What?" He sounds confused, but like he's still smiling. He wants to be let in on the joke. Tara goes with it, chases the unexpected and gossamer bubbles of laughter, because it feels good and they both can use a little bit of distraction. They both need a little light in all the dark.

"Well… Your hair is _amazing_ right now." Tara teases. "And of course I'm going to miss you. You're a hot piece of ass Teller." She grins widely and leans down to nibble at his shoulder.

"Eh, tell me something I don't know." Jax shrugs against her.

"See, but it's your humility that really sets you apart from other men." Tara shoots back.

"You wouldn't know what to do with a humble man." He snorts and shakes his head.

"You're right, I wouldn't know. I've never met one." Tara whispers against the top of his head and Jax's low sleepy chuckle floats up into the air.

"I love you so much." He mumbles, and when he kisses her ribs again, his mouth is slow and tired.

"I love you too." Tara smiles to herself and continues to rub his back. She listens until his breathing evens out before she lays her head down, wrapping herself around Jax, and closes her eyes.

Even though they fall asleep twisted together like a human yin yang, Tara wakes up pulled against Jax's side, the way she's always woken up with him. Her dreams fade but they leave behind an impression, a fingerprint, and it is warm and bathed in golden sunlight. A glimpse of her and Jax young and running through the woods, laughing, climbing trees, and tackling each other. Tara doesn't know if it really happened. Can't sort the floating dream from her memories, not yet, but it brings a smile to her lips before she fully wakes. She shifts to get more comfortable and Jax's arms move with her, rubbing along her skin and hugging her closer.

Oh, he's awake too, she realizes. Tara opens her eyes.


End file.
